


One Year in Heaven

by Rhysand_vs_Fenrys



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-05-28 12:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 57,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15048896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysand_vs_Fenrys/pseuds/Rhysand_vs_Fenrys
Summary: Elain and Lucien/Azriel celebrate their first anniversary in style. A romantic dinner, an exchange of gifts, and a new suite of bedroom toys to try out. ** This fic is available in Elucien, Elriel, and Manorian formats.





	1. Elucien Edition

##  **One Year in Heaven (Elucien Edition)**

“Can I help you with something, sir?” a pleasantly soft voice asked.

Lucien wished it was the first time they’d voiced that particular question, he would feel less awkward.

“I know I’m taking too long to decide,” he blushed deeply.

“If I may?”

He started, then nodded to the shop owner.

Embarrassed as he may be, Lucien supposed Anwynn was the only fae in Velaris he could turn to for help. They were utterly androgynous in form and voice, and changed their demeanor and dress between genders at will. A simple nail on the door frame was marked with a ribbon daily based on how Anwynn wished to be perceived. Blue for male, pink for female, and purple if neither felt right.

Lucien spent a week ‘casually’ strolling by the storefront, waiting for a purple day. He didn’t have the courage to enter the store if Anwynn was feeling pink or blue. They could be so innocently beautiful as a female that Lucien knew he could never buy what he needed. Of course, as a male Anwynn was roguishly handsome, but shopping intimately for his mate with a male by his side rubbed against the mating bond and risked waking his more territorial instincts.

What Lucien didn’t realize was that Anwynn had noticed his passing, and so chose a purple ribbon for today to see if that would set the nervous customer at ease enough to enter the shop.

“What is the occasion?” Anwynn rested an arm on the edge of a shelf that displayed various padded restraints for the bedroom. Two small braids on either side of their face kept the hair from their eyes, and in each was wound a purple ribbon, in case Lucien missed the one on the door.

Their face was bright, open, and most importantly- judgement free.

“My first anniversary.”

“Husband? Wife? Mate?” Anwynn knew already of course, but they judged Lucien as the sort of male who appreciated anonymity (even if he  _was_  the brother-in-law of their High Lord and thus known to everyone).

“Mate.”

“Ah, so you’re shopping for the echo.”

He nodded.

Anwynn understood immediately, “So you want to do something special, perhaps something your partner wants that you have been resistant to?”  They looked Lucien over carefully, assessing, “Domination or pegging?”

His face turned scarlet, “D-domination.”

“That scares you? To be dominated? Or will your partner be the submissive?”

Lucien nodded, but words were beyond him. He held up two fingers to indicate the second choice.

“Why does that worry you?” Anwynn’s voice was soft. They made many of the silk restraints Elain and Lucien played with, little more than decorative swaths of lace. It wasn’t an unnatural progression to the leathers he stood before now.

Fortunately, Anwynn had run the Velaris shop for centuries, giving them more than enough experience with shy males like Lucien. They knew not to push him too hard for an answer. Fae tended to be shy their first time purchasing intimate apparel or toys for fear of judgement. It was Anwynn’s job to put them at ease. Lucien never named Elain, so Anwynn would not, nor would they bring up his previous purchases. In most cases they wouldn’t have even approached Lucien unless he indicated he wished to be approached, but after the first forty-five minutes they’d made an exception to the rule.

“It- it isn’t my natural state,” Lucien fidgeted. “I’m not the sort of male who gives commands to lovers, let alone-“ he glanced to the nearby accessories. “I can’t hurt my mate, and I would never trap her… or, at least I never thought I would.”

Anwynn smiled brightly, “So, you’re worried about the wellbeing of the female you love?” when Lucien nodded they looked to the toys, “None of these are for harming or trapping, not if they are used responsibly.” They followed Lucien’s gaze to a set of nipple clamps that attached to a leather collar via silver chains, “Hold out your hand.”

Anxious, Lucien did as he was told while Anwynn lifted the contraption from its stand. They took one of the clamps and pinched it open to show Lucien the tiny leather pads rather than the sharp metal teeth he was expecting. “You put these on,” they pinched the clamp to sensitive skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Lucien barely felt it. “Then spin this until your partner tells you to stop.” Anwynn indicated a small, ridged knob that stuck out from the side. They only turned it once, until Lucien felt a building pressure, then tugged. It didn’t budge, “You can raise the chains as well,” they indicated small clasps at the top of the collar and lifted a false edge of leather to show another several inches of chain hidden within.

“Depending on what your partner’s needs are, this may be more aesthetic than functional. Everything here is like that- it looks more intimidating than it is.” Anwynn returned the mechanism to its display stand.

“What about-“ Lucien nodded to a series of cuffs dangling along a nearby wall.

“Those are fairly self-explanatory, but let me show you a secret,” Anwynn led him to a particularly vicious set of manacles. Again, Lucien held out an arm for the demonstration.

“This is our least friendly-looking model. Even the most basic cuff I sell has this feature though-“ they took one of Lucien’s fingers and showed him a ridge on the inside of the top rim, one easily within reach without having to involve his other hand. Anwynn pressed Lucien’s finger to the ridge and the cuff opened along a second seam opposite the manacle’s main lock, “No matter the play, every accessory has an emergency release.”

Lucien breathed a long sigh, more than a little relieved. Daunting as the manacles were, knowing Elain could unlock them was more comforting than he could say.

Anwynn patiently walked him through more toys and clothing, answering every question Lucien had and a few he wouldn’t have thought to ask. From the main body of the lace shop they sold nothing more than lingerie, but the section Lucien browsed was relatively secluded from casual shoppers. He hated taking Anwynn away from their wares, but they kept an ear out for the door and gave Lucien as much assistance as he required.

“Would you like some privacy to make your selection?” Anwynn asked as Lucien fell silent at last.

“Yes, please.”

They reached up onto the edge of a shelf containing various harnesses and pulled down a slip of paper with a sketch of the product. Each piece of the design was labeled with one or more numbers, “Everything here has one of these beneath it. The numbers correspond to aisles in the main store. Numbers in black indicate that any fabric in that aisle may be substituted at no additional cost. Numbers in gray will have an extra charge applied- those are rare or expensive materials. Just leave the card blank if you prefer the colors of the floor model, or make notes as needed.” Anwynn conjured a pen and handed it to Lucien before returning the paper and heading up to their counter.

Suddenly, Lucien’s task was all the more daunting. Would Elain want the base, brutal look of black leather? Should he get her something in white with little flowers? Should he be the one to decide and give her the design that  _he_  preferred? She wanted him to play dominant, but did that apply to picking out the clothing as well?

For more than an hour Anwynn waited as Lucien came in and out of the private section with different cards. He changed his mind constantly on design and material. They took afternoon tea at the counter, as always, and when Lucien emerged to check fabrics  _again,_ Anwynn offered him a cup which he gratefully accepted.

Two and a half hours after Lucien first entered the store, he approached the counter with a stack of papers in hand.

“May I offer a suggestion?” Anwynn said idly as they reorganized the forms and began transcribing them into a sale ledger.

“Of course, you’ve been a huge help.” Lucien’s shyness was gone at last.

“Start thinking towards aftercare now. Don’t wait until the special day. Perhaps speak with your mate. Play like this is taxing on both parties. You will need time to find yourselves again, and your proper dynamic.” They pulled a small pamphlet from behind the counter and handed it to him. “Read this. Bruises are only fun when given proper attention.”

Lucien’s face turned beat red. Had he chosen the wrong things? Was his order too intense? Why did Anwynn feel the need to advise him?

“Anyone who buys Level 2 restraints or higher gets the warning with their first purchase. It is part of a sexual health awareness program the Governors put in place a millennia ago, don’t worry. Your purchases are actually fairly commonplace in beginning domination. Only one Level 3 accessory. Level 4 comes with first-aid advisories and needle cleaning solution.”

“I won’t be going near Level 4.” Lucien had seen a section marked “S&M Piercing” and made a point to stay clear. He faulted none who enjoyed it, but even if Elain begged  _that_  would always be a loud and resounding “no”. She could have her nipples pierced by a professional if she wished, but he would never be the one to put needle to flesh.

He accepted the pamphlet from Anwynn and read it carefully as they filled out the order slips and itemized a receipt. It would take two days to make Elain’s gifts, which put pick-up a full week before their anniversary.

“As long as I have it the day before, there’s no rush.”

“In that case, you can choose any set as a gift with purchase,” Anwynn waved a hand to both male and female lingerie samples.

Something about having the stress of his order in someone else’s hands made Lucien giddy. He laughed, “Surprise me. I know Elain loves your work.” He paused, then pulled a few pieces of gold from one pocket. The order would be paid for via a slip of transaction that Anwynn would take to the bank for the agreed sum. Lucien set his coins on the counter, adding their value to what was already on the card, “Surprise both of us. If she has something special to wear, I should too.”

Anwynn smiled, “I have both of your measurements and preferences on file. You won’t be disappointed.”

Lucien only prayed that whatever Anwynn made him, it wouldn’t be lace.

**—-**

* * *

 

**—-**

Anwynn’s door was marked with a pink ribbon when Lucien returned to retrieve his orders.

Her braid was lacking its usual ribbon, but the second reminder lay this time in her gown- a layered dress of forest green and pale pink. A crown of flowers sat atop her head, and Lucien smiled, “Is it a special day?”

“A happy one,” she returned his grin. “Yesterday your brother-in-law granted my request to attend a Prythian-wide trade show. It’s hosted by the Guild in Spring this year. It will be very exclusive- a requirement for attendance is written permission of a High Lord! This will be the first time I’ve ever stepped foot outside of Velaris- I was so excited when I applied that I stared work on three new wardrobes just for the occasion! My husband is wearing the male version of this today.” She twirled, setting the pink gauze fluttering.

“Congratulations!” Lucien shook her hand. “You should have mentioned it when I was in last week! I could have gone to Rhys and had an answer for you that night.”

Anwynn smiled, “I would never want to impose on a customer or their contacts, but thank you. The letter of approval did come with a warning about Spring and how they may treat Night residents. I know you were a resident for a time- any advice?”

Lucien winced and sighed, “Unfortunately it is patience you will need more than anything- patience and control. Their High Lord has told countless lies about this Court… Lies that I am ashamed to say I believed once. The War showed them who Rhysand is, but the people of Spring are stubborn and slow to change. Seek out Lord Dillion of Autumn and Lady Sadb of Dawn. They are the heads of clothier and tailoring guilds, so I am sure they will be in attendance. Both are old friends as well as highly respected tradespeople. Tell them you are outfitter to my wife and I. Before you know it, they will have introduced you to every craftsperson in Prythian.”

She laughed brightly, “I will, thank you very much. May I ask one other question?” the light faded in their eyes slightly and he nodded. “Fae like me… in your honest opinion- will it be alright?”

He knew what she was asking and considered the question carefully, “In Autumn, birth gender is rigorously enforced. Spring has no such laws, but there is a similar mindset. Those two Courts are the most rigid though. More fae will be on your side than against you. Dillion and Sadb will make sure you are not harassed, you have my word. Dillion’s son was misassigned at birth and they have been petitioning to change the laws for centuries.  Spring will hold their tongues, but if Autumn gives you any trouble just tell them Lucien Vanserra has no problem keeping a list of names.”

Relief lit her face and soon that smile returned again, “Again, thank you Lord Lucien. The shop will be closed while I am away, but once I return your next order- no matter how large it may be- is on the house.”

“Thank you,” he laughed. “You’ll love it. Spring has its problems, but it truly is a beautiful place.”

She smiled again and jumped, excited once more, “I’ll go grab your parcels. Is the standard gift wrap alright?”

“Absolutely. I want Elain to know where it came from as soon as she sees it.”

Anwynn opened a large cabinet behind the counter- orders to be picked up that day. Most parcels were wrapped in customary silver paper with a navy ribbon. The top half, however, held numerous parcels in pale pink with red or white ribbons tied at the top in the shape of a rose, “There are a lot of anniversaries this week. Spring has always been a popular time for weddings.”

From the middle shelf she began pulling out Lucien’s parcels (each marked with a piece of blue-gray yarn tucked into the ribbon). As Anwynn set the packages on the counter she removed the yarn and tossed it into a container behind the counter. There were ten packages, most mercifully small. Lucien knew which one was his set of new undergarments- the rose-ribbon was edged in gold.  As Anwynn pulled parcels from the stack, she blew on the crushed ribbon-roses. A light spell on them puffed each back to its full glory.

“You may open them if you want to inspect your order, the wrapping is simple,” she said, though she knew he would never open them in front of her. Perhaps if she were male or neutral, but when she chose to appear female even Elain agreed they looked similar (somehow her male appearance was closer to Cassian).

“I don’t think you could mess up an order even if you tried,” Lucien said. Indeed, the ‘Days Since Last Return’ counter on the wall had been changed to ‘Decades’ long before even Amarantha’s reign of terror.

“My quality control expert is the best in the business. It pays to have a finance manager as a mate. He inspects every last order- and even does the books for free.” Anwynn laughed.

Lucien shook his head, “I was always told mates are rare, but I think by now everyone I know has one.”

“Everyone  _does_ ,” Anwynn winked. “Some fae are just stop looking too soon. It took me nearly three hundred years to find a male who could accept all of me. I thank the Cauldron every day for him- and for the fact that we can share male clothes. Maintaining three wardrobes is hell even with a walk-in closet, never mind what happens when you add a whole other male’s worth in.”

“I can only imagine,” Lucien laughed, “You’d need a whole other room!”

“When he moved in I had to convert a guest room into a closet.” Anwynn waved him off, “But I’m rambling. Go to your mate and have a very happy anniversary.”

“Thank you,” he began stacking the parcels into something manageable, “and have fun at the trade show. Show those fools that Velaris is unmatched in lingerie design.”

“I will,” Anwynn winked. “And while I’m at it, I’ll teach those fae a thing or two about useless genders.”

“Dillion and Sadb,” Lucien reminded her as he lifted his order. “If you want to start a revolution, they’ll be your fiercest allies in the room.”

Anwynn came out to hold the door for him, “I’ll seek them out as soon as we arrive.”

Lucien walked out into the streets of Velaris. He tried not to show it as his arms groaned under the weight of everything- especially the three foot long parcel on the bottom. Unfortunately it was a relatively warm Spring afternoon. Elain would call it perfect gardening weather, but beneath thirty pounds of metal, leather, and cloth it was a long and increasingly unpleasant walk back to their home.

After their mating, Lucien and Elain moved into a lovely little home overlooking the wharf on the south end of Velaris. There was space for everything they wanted (including a kitchen larger than Rhysand’s bedroom), but no inch went unused. True, if they ever decided to expand their family they would be forced to move, but for the young couple it was perfect.

A low hedge of pink hydrangea lined the inside of a whitewashed stone fence. Behind it, green lawn stretched towards a pale oak door flanked with yellow rose bushes. To the side of the yard nearest the street- in case anyone wanted to chat- was a vegetable and herb garden was already showing the season’s first sprouts.

The house itself was two stories of white stone with large windows on all sides. Upstairs was Elain and Lucien’s bedroom, bathroom, and two spacious closets (which Lucien had no doubt Anwynn would drool over). Downstairs held the kitchen, formal dining room, sitting room, and Elain’s office where she worked on landscaping designs for some of the palaces of Night. In addition to that were sketches for Feyre and Rhysand’s new estate, Nesta and Cassian’s summer home in Illyria, and even one of Helion’s pleasure-gardens in Day, commissioned the  _moment_  he laid eyes on the garden at the House of Wind.

Lucien was just happy Rhys had no idea he and Elain mated in that same garden.

Around the back of the house was Lucien’s home forge for blade-crafting and a plant nursery for Elain to prepare seedlings for transplantation. Lucien always wondered if the yard was larger than their house- not that he would complain. He’d mated a gardener- he was just thankful he had no allergy to pollen.

Lucien expected Elain to be alone in the garden when he got home (or, better yet, out). However, when he opened the front door it wasn’t silence that greeted him, but the sound of a heavy roasting pan shifting on the stove.

He dashed upstairs quickly and dumped the packages on his and Elain’s bed. His closet was the only place she never ventured, so he cleared a spot on the floor at the back and ferried the boxes in one-by-one.

“Welcome home!” Elain called up the stairs, “Illyrian for dinner alright?”

“Absolutely!” Lucien called down. He knew he should have an excuse for running upstairs and not going to greet Elain, but he couldn’t think of any that didn’t involve bathroom emergencies.

“The females were here earlier, they dropped off anniversary cards before leaving on their trip.”

Lucien changed into a lighter shirt quickly, “That was nice of them!”

Feyre, Nesta, Mor, Amren, Nuala, and Cerridwen were somewhere on the continent exploring and shopping under a heavy human glamour. They’d offered to postpone their trip until Elain could join, but she’d waved them off with an excuse about being far too busy.

Only her mate knew the truth.

It was still too soon for Elain to wear a mortal glamour and walk among humans once more. Her adjustment to being fae was a slow one, and the trauma surrounding her change still brought her the occasional violent nightmare (from which Lucien had a collection of scars). Taking on a human form and presenting herself as one again was likely to trigger a relapse and undo all of the progress she’d made in the past year.

Elain voiced that fear to her mind-physician in Dawn, and the female agreed.

Those nightmares… they were the other reason Lucien was so anxious about Elain’s request for more aggressive bedroom play. When he met with the physician she seemed unconcerned, but he wasn’t entirely convinced now was the proper time.  Every other week he joined Elain on the last half of her session, but monthly he had a private hour to ask advice on how to aid her recovery, voice his own concerns, or process his own injuries and fears after Elain attacked during her nightmares.

The physician’s assessment was that though Elain was still too fragile to handle a visit to the human lands, her sexual desires were not concerning so long as they proceeded safely.

Lucien finished buttoning his shirt and took a step towards the door. He cursed and kicked off his boots, “I’m sorry,” he called as he hurried down the stairs, “I forgot again.”

“That’s alright, the rule is more for me than you.” Elain was back in the kitchen as he opened a cabinet by the door and put his shoes inside. Their cream carpeting suffered no damage from Lucien’s hurried dash upstairs, but Elain’s shoes were often caked in dirt or dyed wood-mulch.

“I’m also sorry for-” he winnowed into the kitchen, right behind Elain. She smiled as Lucien’s arms wrapped around her tightly and he pressed a kiss to her cheek, “-not greeting my beautiful and wondrous mate properly.”

Elain set down the bowl of noodle-thin pastry she was mixing butter and sugar into and spun around in Lucien’s arms to kiss him, “Don’t worry, you’ll make it up to me by doing the dishes.”

“My favorite chore,” he kissed her nose and let her return to the task at hand. Elain and Lucien took turns cooking dinner, but he insisted on doing the dishes. His mate spent her days elbow-deep in either dirt or dough, he was happy to don bright purple washing gloves and give her a few additional minutes of rest.

As he pulled his gloves on and set his sights to the small heap of frying pans, bowls, and measuring dishes by the sink, he breathed in deeply the aroma of whatever it was she was cooking in a covered roasting pan on the stove.

Garlic, cinnamon, and more spices than he could name from scent alone filled the kitchen. The dish would be tangy, but not overly hot (no surprise- Elain favored softer tastes). The scent was deep and rich, sweet and sharp, and as he started to wash, Lucien’s nose sorted the scents into two distinct projects.

The sweetness was tied to whatever Elain was preparing behind him. She pulled something from the oven just long enough to pour creamy white cheeses into the dish, sprinkle more on top, and then covered it with the pastry she’d been sorting through. From the stove came the richer scent. The base of the scent was something that acted as a support for the spices, not a rival. Lucien nixed proteins from his memory until he had it.

“Chicken?”

“Good guess,” Elain laughed as she finished arranging the noodle-like pastry on top of the dish and closed the oven door. “Chicken kabsa with carrots, potatoes, and mushroom.”

“And raisins?”

“ _Extra_  raisins. Just for you.”

Lucien gave an appreciative groan. Cassian hoarded his Illyrian recipes, but lately Elain had convinced him to divulge a few just for her to try. Most dishes were impossible in Velaris - Illyrian spices were hard to come by. Cassian gave Elain an allowance of only one spice refill per month, so she had to choose her dishes carefully.

“Cassian’s anniversary gift was a full refill of my spice rack,” Elain leaned on the counter beside Lucien and smiled brightly, “Twenty-five bottles, all freshly prepared. We probably won’t need any refills until fall.”

He took another lungful of the air and smiled brightly, “Any chance you can teach me what each one smells like? I want to try to develop your nose.” Lucien tipped over to kiss it as he scrubbed a frying pan.

She giggled, “Of course. But don’t forget who the master is.”

“Never.” He was a good enough cook, but Elain’s food held a magic all its own. Even Cassian feared her learning too many Illyrian recipes, in case he was replaced as Azriel and Rhysand’s favorite chef in the Inner Circle.

Lucien set the pan he was washing into the drying board and picked up a small saucepan. He caught a strong whiff of rose and turned quickly before the pan went under the faucet. A clear syrup filled the bottom.

“Hey Elain?”

“Yeah?” She was still smiling up at her husband.

“I think you forgot something,” he handed the pan over to her.

Elain’s eyes went wide and she cursed- which never failed to make Lucien laugh, “Shit, yes. Thank you! Ugh, I was wondering where that pan went.” She walked off holding it, equally angry at the pan and herself. The contents were meant to be poured over her pastry-dish once it was finished. The dish had to be fresh from the oven and the syrup cool when they met. If Lucien had accidentally washed out the contents the recipe would be ruined (but still tasty).

He made a show of inspecting every dish that followed carefully, at least until Elain grabbed a wet towel and snapped it into his rear.

“Abuse!” he yelped at the sting.

“I’ll kiss it better when the echo comes,” she snorted and hung the dishtowel back up to dry.

That was the part of their anniversary Lucien was readying for with his gift- the echo of their mating frenzy. It would come back each and every year, driving them together with all the force and fury of their first mating (though this time only lasting a day).

Lucien purred at his wife and stomped viciously on the desire to drag her upstairs and show her all the toys he’d bought for her right that instant, dinner be damned. He loved Elain so desperately it felt as though his heart would burst each time she smiled, and every morning he woke with her in his arms was like a dream.

They’d mated on accident, and he regretted that. It was supposed to be nothing more than a working weekend up in the gardens of the House of Wind. Elain had decided to offer herself to Lucien and see if they were even physically compatible. The most they’d done before then was go on a few walks and dine together- entirely done under the hawkish eye of Nesta.

When he held her in his arms at the back edge of the gardens and she came with his name on her lips- they’d both heard that silent question and given their consent… Neither realized at the tiem just what they were saying ‘yes’ to. It was three days later, as they surfaced for air from the frenzy, that Mor noticed they’d mated.

That (happy) accident led to weeks of awkward conversations as the two figured out how to proceed now that they were suddenly bonded for life (a step neither was quite ready to make yet). It was hardly an easy start to their marriage, but they more they learned about one another the deeper their love grew and the more it all just felt  _right._ Elain was Lucien’s miracle, and he had no words that could ever come close expressing the love in his heart (not that he gave up trying). He showered her with gifts of flowers and seeds for her gardens, offered her his body for any kind of hard labor she required, and in action as well as deed built for her a home warmer and happier than either of them had ever known.

Before his mind properly registered that the dishes were done, Lucien had stripped off his gloves and gone to Elain. She was lifting the lid of the pot on the stove, and Lucien nuzzled the long curve of her neck, “Thank you for sharing this life with me.”

“The happiest of accidents,” it was their nickname for the mating. Elain smiled and leaned her head back onto Lucien’s chest.

He traced his lips across her throat, delivering soft nibbles between kisses, “We don’t have to wait for the echo.”

“We do have to wait,” Elain pushed her husband back lightly, “dinner’s ready.”

 _Cauldron_ , if being so near to her made him feel like this now, what would the echo be like tomorrow?

Lucien gathered plates, forks, and knives while Elain readied for whatever the next step was. He was filling two glasses with iced water when he noticed Elain setting a platter on top of the roasting pan, “Do you need help?” She intended to flip the dish upside down.

“I think I’m alright,” Elain’s tongue poked out the side of her mouth as she readied for the quick flip. She pressed the plate to the pan with her thumbs and turned the entire thing over. The awkward shift in weight nearly made her drop everything, but she just let the pan force the plate into the stovetop.

Lucien’s eyes widened as she lifted the pan away to reveal a perfectly layered dish. Chicken thighs with the skin neatly browned and seasoned, pan-fried vegetables, and beneath it all a brown, fluffy rice. Slivers of garlic and boiled raisins (twice as much as the recipe called for) covered the food, and as their aroma was unleashed in full Lucien’s stomach growled.

Elain spooned healthy portions of kabsa onto the two plates, and laughed as the chicken thighs completely fell apart, “I guess it’s tender.” She set the plates down on the far side of their kitchen island, where the two ate most days on barstools. They had a dining room, but it felt odd sitting at a table made for eight when it was just the two of them.

Until Elain took the first bite, Lucien only breathed in the scent. He’d already picked out garlic and cinnamon, but now his nose managed to spot allspice, saffron, cardamom, cumin, and coriander blending and mixing. It wouldn’t be a particularly spicy dish, but it would be warm. The kind one would eat to push back at winter chill.

“Perfect,” Elain whispered once she’d taken her bite. Lucien took that as his cue to tuck in. He started with a spoonful of rice. As predicted, it was warm rather than spicy, and the sweetness of raisin added a soft burst of flavor that filled every taste bud from front to back. A perfect balance.

He pulled at the chicken skin until a large section tore off, soft and flavorful from boiling in spices. Elain was neat and proper- she sliced hers so that each bite of chicken had a little bit of flavoring from the skin. Lucien… well, he was raised in a male household. He ate as much of the skin in one go as he could manage.

Pockets of flavor erupted on his tongue as he chewed. The spices had largely been strained from the broth before it all set to boil, but a few stubborn bits were stuck in and beneath the chicken’s skin. Tangy, spicy, and even a little sweet from the excess raisins Elain added- once more his tongue was blinded by flavor.

When Lucien finished skinning the chicken thigh he set in on the meat itself. It was juicy and tender, just as Elain had said. He could still taste the delicate mix of spices, but for the most part the natural flavor of the meat held command. For every bite of chicken he used his knife to slip a raisin from the rice and add it to his fork.

“I’m only half-finished with my chicken,” Elain said with a laugh as Lucien picked up the bones and sucked the last slivers of meat from them.

“This is incredible,” he managed some words before launching into the vegetables and rice. He’d seen carrots, mushroom, and potatoes, but there was also cauliflower finely shredded into the rice and even zucchini (an addition Elain made to Cassian’s recipe for her own tastes).

Lucien was vaguely aware of a sweet rose scent filling the kitchen as they ate, but once Elain finished her chicken she took Lucien’s free hand in hers and nothing else mattered. Her soft skin beneath his rough fingers woke that delicious ache in his heart again.

He regretted that their mating was accidental, but not that they’d mated. Nothing in all of Prythian could compare to sitting beside Elain Archeron in a home all their own, eating good food together, and just basking in one another’s presence.

“Dessert is in the oven,” Elain sighed as Lucien’s thumb traced the back of her hand.

“I know, I saw you put it in.”

“I’m reminding myself,” she cast a lidded gaze over to him and squirmed slightly on her seat, hoping to diffuse the growing ache between her legs, “otherwise I’d have your pants off already.”

His mouth went instantly dry, “How long do we need to wait after a meal to have sex?”

“Until tomorrow,” Elain shuddered. “Tomorrow is going to be… Feyre said it was a good idea to just drink plenty of fluids today, otherwise we’ll suffer when the echo fades.”

“So you’re just torturing me?” Lucien didn’t mention his own dashed plans for Elain once the food was cleared.

Truth be told, the reminder of Feyre and Rhys’ condition after their anniversary helped soothe the rising presence in his own lap. Their bodies had been utterly drained of essential nutrients in the echo- which didn’t seem to grant any of the actual mating’s restorative abilities.

When the High Lord and Lady of Night returned from wherever they’d hidden away, they were pale, shaking, and dehydrated. Madja was summoned and she’d informed them both (then each of the mated couples within the Inner Circle) that the echo was not to be taken lightly. No sex for two days before it, not even simple hand play. Just water, more water, and as much protein as they could manage.

“Maybe one of us should sleep on the couch tonight,” Elain muttered. They were both very much in the throws of the season- spring seemed to be designed to wake lover’s passions. Though, in all fairness it wasn’t much different than how they’d been all winter.

Or the autumn before that.

Or the summer before that.

Maybe it wasn’t spring fever so much as the lust and love of a new union.

Lucien focused exclusively on his rice and forced himself to ignore any thoughts of scooping Elain up onto that counter and-

Cauldron damn it! Tonight’s going to be hell. It would be around ten in the morning on their anniversary when the echo hit. Lucien was already counting down the hours.

Once a sugary sweetness finally overrode the scent of kabsa, Elain got up to check the oven.

“Ready for dessert?” she looked to Lucien’s plate. Both of them had only a few bites of rice and vegetables left.

“Don’t say it like that,” he groaned.

“Like what? This is my normal tone.”

“I know, and it’s too tempting,” images of her with the new accessories hidden in his closet danced a bit too brightly behind his eyes.

“Should I try to sound like Cassian?” Elain giggled. She made her voice as deep as she could, “You have to change yours too, pick a female.”

He obliged and put on a bratty falsetto Mor would  _slaughter_  him for, “Cauldron, you still just sound cute.”

She laughed again and pulled a round baking dish from the oven. The top was a picture-perfect golden brown. The noodle-esque strips of dough looked like fried hashbrowns, but their sweet, buttery scent was unmistakable. There was rose intertwined with that scent, and something deeper beneath it, but before Lucien could place the smells Elain was flipping the dish onto a plate, just as she’d done with dinner.

“Watch this part-” she grabbed the pan of rescued syrup and carefully poured it onto the dish.

As soon as the syrup hit the pastry it began to sizzle and pop. The scent of roses and another layer of sweetness erupted in the room. It sounded the same as when Lucien tempered steel in his forge- heating it before dousing it in water. The sizzling was a music of its own, and he subconsciously leaned back to avoid being hit with any splatters.

“I’m only using half,” Elain finished pouring and set the pot aside, “personally I think the rose flavor is too strong. Here-” she grabbed a dish of finely crushed pistachios and sprinkled them on top, then fetched a serving knife and fresh plates.

“Woah,” Lucien’s eyes went wide as Elain cut a piece, then pulled it away. A curtain of molten cheese mixed with slivers of almond stretched nearly a foot from the dish to the plate. Lucien used a sliver of magic to sever the connecting strands as Elain set the piece down.

“You have the first bite. It’s too hot for me still,” she passed the plate to Lucien and began to cut her own.

Hot as the cheese was, Elain had no hope of tasting her creation until it had time to cool. Her husband, however, had the Autumn fire of his mother in his veins. No matter how hot the food, he was never burned.

Lucien’s grunt as he took the first bite made it difficult for Elain to focus again. She couldn’t help but note that he made a similar sound when her mouth was on his-

Elain went to the sink and splashed some cold water on her face.

“Kanafa, right?” Lucien said at last as he swallowed his bite. Cassian had made the dish once before, during their Solstice celebrations. That day the sweetness was overpowering, and the rose a bit too strong for his liking. Elain’s version was scaled back just enough. The lemon in the syrup was stronger than rose, and she’d put just a bit less sugar into the dish.

“Yes, but I think Cassian’s recipe was more for Azriel than anyone- there was too much sugar. I eased it back a bit. Cassian suggested less rose as well- the stuff he gave us was very fresh.” She used her fork to pull out a small bite and began blowing on it, eager to eat before the syrup made the pastry soggy.

Lucien had another bite in his mouth, but he flashed Elain two thumbs-up and grinned his approval. The rose was enough to make itself known, but not terribly overpowering. It was as if the scent of the blossoms that flanked their door had found a way to infuse their soft presence into the food. When Cassian last made the kanafa, it was a bit closer to chewing on the flower itself.

“I still don’t believe this is a dessert,” Lucien laughed as Elain finally took her bite. A smile lit her eyes- pride at a job well done. “This much cheese? I don’t care how much sugar is in the pastry, it’s still heavy.” The cheese only made up the middle inch, sandwiched as it was between two layers of the sugar-pastry. It was a blend of soft, sweet cheeses that lent their flavor to the rose rather than stand in competition. In that respect he did understand how it worked as a dessert.

Thinking back, Lucien realized that every Illyrian dish he’d ever tried was the same as the two Elain had prepared- they had a way of waking the entire tongue, not just one side of it. Sweet and savory, spicy and mild- they made Autumn and Spring cooking look… bland. Limited.

Lucien used his power to keep the kanafa from cooling, and ate as quickly as possible. Like Elain, he enjoyed it best while the birds-nest of pasty on top was still crunchy, before the sticky syrup infused it. That rose flavor began to build in his mouth despite Elain’s alterations, and by the time he took his last bite he was eyeing leftover kabsa rice to chase it back.

Still, it was a marked improvement, by the time he’d finished Cassian’s he wasn’t sure he could taste anything but rose.

“After dessert-dessert,” Lucien hopped up to heat their tea kettle, “What’s your poison?”

“Green tea,” Elain smiled as she finished up her kabsa.

“This late?” The sun was barely setting, but Elain had a surprisingly low tolerance for caffeine, “Have some work to do?”

She nodded, “I want to stop by Day after my next appointment and drop off a first draft of plans for Helion to look over. I think I have the general layout close to where I want it.”

Lucien pulled a square mahogany tea chest from its place on the counter and opened it. The inside was divided into a dozen separate compartments with hinged glass lids. At the base of the chest was a drawer that opened to reveal reusable mesh bags. Lucien carefully measured out Elain’s green tea and his coffee into their respective pouches. Once his instincts told him the water was perfectly heated, he filled twin mugs and set their drinks to steep.

“Want to go for a walk by the wharf?” Lucien suggested. Sometimes when Elain had work to do a short outing helped clear her mind.

“Sure,” she smiled and carried their dishes to the sink. The kabsa she covered and put in the ice-box. It would be their meal during the echo.

Once the tea and coffee were finished, Lucien scooped up their mugs and hooked his arm through his mate’s, “Ready to walk?”

“Yes,” Elain accepted hers and went to pull on sandals.

They emptied their mugs slowly as they wandered towards the sea. Shadows were gathering as the sun dipped low across the ocean, but their footsteps weren’t hurried. The northern end of Velaris’ docks was home to warehouses and seedy taverns, but the southern end was clean and well maintained. Other couples out for a stroll nodded to the pair. They were fae Lucien and Elain knew by sight alone as they walked in a large loop towards the sea wall, down to the edge of the docks where children swam close to shore, and back up along a row of rich estates.

When Elain finished her tea she curled into Lucien and tugged his arm over her shoulder. He half-held his wife as the fresh sea air eased the growing tension in his chest. He was excited for the echo, yes, but doubts still tugged at his mind when he thought of the gifts hidden in his closet. Half of him was excited, half was terrified.

Could he give Elain what she wanted? Would he have to endure a flicker of disappointment on her face when she realized he couldn’t go as far as she wanted? The last time they’d discussed it- when she specifically requested domination for her birthday- she’d fought against herself to hide the regret at his refusal but it still managed to spark in her eyes. His heart flickered with shame at the memory.

What he was offering was a compromise, but what if Elain had to shove down that disappointment again?

By the time they returned to the house even Elain could see the faraway look in her husband’s eyes. She kissed him soundly at the door, wrapped her arms around his chest, and just held him for a time. Only when Lucien kissed the top of her head and gave her a squeeze did she release him. He went to the kitchen to finish up the dishes and Elain slipped into her office. When Lucien fell into one of his quiet moods it was best to leave him to sort out his own mind. He would come to her when he was ready to share whatever burdened him.

Elain worked long into the night, until her eyes burned and she could no longer picture the garden she was trying to map out. She yawned and popped her neck, then blew out the lamp on her desk. In the sitting room, Lucien was sitting in his favorite armchair and staring at a closed book. Whatever thoughts were bothering him on their walk, he still hadn’t found an answer.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Elain asked. Lucien shifted automatically, giving her a lap to sit on.

His eyes met hers and he smiled slightly, “Why don’t you go ahead. I’m going to stay up a little longer.”

She lifted his chin and kissed her husband, “Whenever you want to tell me, I’ll be there for you. Even if you have to wake me up.”

“I’m not suicidal enough to ever wake you,” Lucien joked. He kissed Elain’s fingertips, then her jaw. “If you need me to-“

“Don’t worry,” Elain cut him off, “I’m alright. You’re off duty tonight. We both need to be ready when tomorrow comes.”

Lucien was returning Elain’s offer for sex with an offer of tongue or hand. Both of them had nights like that on occasion- nights when they couldn’t stir their bodies to desire. Neither had ever taken the offer, but it was code as much as anything.

Whatever Lucien was grappling with was the same thing that had been eating at him with increasing frequency over the last month. So far Elain had given him space, but now-

“Don’t worry,” now it was Lucien who cut Elain off as she opened her mouth. “I promise we’ll talk about it. Soon.” He held up a pinky.

She sighed, but hooked his pinky all the same, sealing the bargain, “Goodnight, I love you.”

“I love you too,” he kissed her once more, “goodnight.”

Elain left Lucien alone in the sitting room, and not long after he heard the water running upstairs as she brushed her teeth.

 _What’s wrong with you,_  he asked himself.  _You were so excited to pick up all that stuff and now you’re acting weird again._

_-Because what if she doesn’t like it? What if she’s disappointed, just like on her birthday?_

_She wasn’t disappointed her_ whole _birthday,_  he reminded himself,  _just when I said I couldn’t do more intense play. It isn’t like the sex was bad that day. It was just- just when I turned her down… and again just now._

He sighed and got up, “I’m going to the forge,” Lucien called up to Elain. It was going to be a long night if he couldn’t get a handle on himself.

“I love you,” was her only reply.

Before heading to the door, Lucien slipped into Elain’s workroom and picked up her latest sketch of Helion’s garden. He slipped it into his previously discarded book and smuggled it out the back door and over to his forge. There he lit a work lamp, unburied a locked chest hidden beneath bags of iron pellets, and threw up his usual shield around the forge- just in case Elain’s magic reached out to check on him.

If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well ready her anniversary present.

**—-**

* * *

 

**—-**

Sunlight and the sound of running water woke Lucien well before the echo was to come.

He wasn’t even sure when he finally crawled into bed, exhausted. Nervous energy hummed in his veins now, and Lucien knew there was no falling back asleep.

Elain’s half of the bed was barely warm- a sign that she had been awake for a while already. Knowing her, she’d started the day with tea and jam-laden toast. Also knowing her- Lucien opened an eye and sure enough a metal tray was on her pillow with his own tea-and-jam breakfast. She’d even laid out two small green bottles of contraceptive brew- Madja recommended doubling the usual dose in their meal before and after the echo.

“Thank you,” Lucien called, his voice rough with sleep. “I was going to make  _you_  breakfast.”

“Make me lunch,” she called from the bathroom, “or dinner- whenever we surface for air.”

“Deal.” He took a piece of toast covered in thick blackberry jam and sat up. Elain’s nightstand drawer was cracked, and Lucien chuckled as he took a bite, “Elain?”

“Yes?”

“Let me guess- the one I gave you for your birthday?”

“Of course,” she laughed. “Eat your breakfast, I can handle this on my own.”

“Don’t forget to start the hourglass this time, you need to save your energy for recovery tomorrow, not healing.”

“I forgot  _one time_ ,” she grumbled before going back to her preparation.

Lucien finished his toast before Elain turned off the water. It would still take time for her to finish up, so he threw on pants and a shirt, “Be right back.”

“I’ll be in the sitting room with your gift!”

“Don’t move the sheet on the coffee table!” he called as he picked up the breakfast tray and headed downstairs.

Living with the Chief Landscape Architect of Night meant special occasions were rarely celebrated with flowers. Every room in the house had some show of color and life, and no matter how well intentioned, a bouquet from one of Velaris’ stalls only disrupted the carefully controlled array of scents.

Still, after a year with Elain Lucien managed to find  _something_ special she enjoyed. Two blocks from their home was a shop that sold edible plants of all types for cooking or baking. Lucien ducked inside and headed straight for garnishes and teas. For his mate, he created a bouquet of mint stalks and shellflower- an odd plant with dozens of bell-shaped leaves. It was of the same plant family as mint, though the scent it gave off was earthier.

The shopkeeper gave him an odd look when Lucien asked that the herbs be tied with one of the ribbons typically reserved for gift wrap, but did as he asked all the same. Overall the trip took mere minutes and as Lucien returned home, Elain was only just coming down the stairs.

She was wearing a rather conservative lace nightie that covered her from her chest down to her upper thighs. The lace was thick and layered- totally obscuring what was beneath. It was what Elain wore for comfort, not necessarily for sex.

“I’ll be changing before the echo hits.” She smiled at his appreciative glance.

“Yes, you will.” A thrill of fear went through him, but he held up the bouquet. It’s soft scent was already blending with that of the roses by the window, “My Lady.”

“My Lord,” Elain accepted the greenery and took a long, deep breath. Mint- one of her favorite scents, and a plant she loved dearly.

“Happy anniversary,” Lucien pulled Elain into a gentle embrace.

“Happy anniversary.” She studied his eyes a moment, “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” he answered honestly. “I’ll let you know.”

“Do you want to talk about it? We have time before the echo.” Indeed, they were three hours early.

“I want you to open your present,” he said.

She pouted, but relented just this once, “Fine, but I want to give you your gift first. It’s been killing me to keep it a secret.”

“Alright,” he laughed and eyed the coffee table as they entered the sitting room. A thick blue sheet covered what anyone with half a brain would see was a stack of thick books at the center of the table.

Elain set the mint on the window sill to keep warm in the sun streaming through their yellow curtains. She wouldn’t put the plant in water- as the mint dried they would use it for cooking or air freshener.

Elain pushed Lucien onto the couch and straddled his lap, facing him. She pulled a square of paper from a pocket between her breasts and held it out, “Here. It doesn’t exactly fit the theme of a ‘Paper Anniversary’, but close enough.”

“Oh, so you’ve already lost the game  _you_  proposed.” He snickered. She was the one who wanted to go with the mortal gift themes their first few decades together.

She whacked his shoulder, “Read.”

Lucien obeyed. It was correspondence from some male finalizing plans to visit Velaris for a month beginning in two weeks’ time. “I’m confused.”

“After a session in the spring, I mentioned how much you love forging your own blades.” Indeed, he’d told her before that his dream as a child was to be a blacksmith, not an Heir of Autumn. “The doctor’s nephew is one of Dawn’s official Court Smiths- and he’s  _deeply_ curious about Velaris. I arranged things between him and Rhys. He gets to visit the city and in return he will tutor you three days a week in the art of metal-grain blades.”

His jaw dropped and he grabbed Elain’s shoulders, “ _What_?! Are you serious?!”

She was beaming, “He sent ahead a list of supplies you’ll need. I already put the order in with your friend near the forges.”

It was beyond anything Lucien could ever have imagined. Dawn Court was famously secretive about the technique behind their metal-grain blades.  When made properly, the steel was strong enough to shatter metal, and yet half as light as a normal sword. Its defining feature was a distinctive ripple between dark and light steel that resembled the grain of wood. No smith outside of Dawn had ever replicated the technique.

For millennia the law of Dawn was clear- blacksmiths who studied the metal-grain technique were kept isolated on an island at the heart of a walled-off lake. Their families were kept from the forges by a deep moat, and anyone who tried to visit the mainland was inspected by daemati guards. No blacksmith could cross the lake, an any who tried- or any family caught smuggling blades to shore- were executed by the High Lord personally.

Only in the last few centuries was the intensely guarded island opened. The artisans trapped there were permitted their freedom at long last, and Thesan’s father lifted the order of silence. Due to the prison-like conditions blacksmiths were kept under, fewer and fewer had agreed to study the technique, and  many feared the day would come when it was lost entirely unless a significant change was made. Freeing the blacksmiths from the island only came a few years before Amarantha’s reign, and most blacksmiths who knew the technique were either found dead in their forges or went into deep hiding to keep the secret from her.

For this male to agree to impart a nearly holy secret to Lucien- being canonized as a god by the High Priestesses would have seemed a more plausible gift for Elain to arrange.

He pulled her into a bone-crushing hug as she squealed and laughed. There were no words. There never would be- she’d given him the greatest gift he could imagine (beyond her love or any future children of course).

“So it’s alright that the only ‘paper’ part is that letter?” A quick grimace of discomfort as something shifted within her reminded Lucien to be mindful of how fast he moved her.

“You’re incredible,” he shook his head, “no- you’re a miracle!”

“Well, if I’m all  _that_ , then maybe I don’t need to tell you that after our next session he will be taking us on a tour of his forge. It’s on some famous island-“ Lucien gasped and Elain laughed again, “-which it sounds like you know the name of.”

“My gift isn’t good enough. You deserve a temple in your honor. Or a palance. No, a hundred palaces!”

 _Oh, just you wait._  Elain hid her smile in a kiss. Lucien knew she was keeping some secret about his future, but he had no idea what would be revealed in just the next few years. They would have their hundred palaces once Helion and the Lady of Autumn revealed their secret to the world.

“This is- it’s going to be-“ Lucien just laughed in excitement and kissed her again.

“Show me my gift,” Elain prompted. Lucien’s last kiss was hungrier than the others, and once  _that_  began they would be consumed all day.

“Right!” Lucien helped Elain carefully off his lap and walked to the far side of the table. “These first.” He pulled a stack of books out from under the sheet.

She accepted the stack and began leafing through them. There were four thick spiral-bound tomes-  _Flora, Fauna, Trees,_ and  _Elements_. Elain opened one of the books- it was filled with full color renderings of every flower known to fae- where to find them, growth and care instructions, and a dozen other classifications Lucien knew she would understand. A full botanical encyclopedia. The  _Elements_  book was a catalogue of grass types, paving stones, benches, fountains, mulch, and any other landscaping detail she could imagine- every one available in dozens of colors.

“This is amazing,” Elain breathed, wide-eyed. Lucien could already see her mile whirring with plans and ideas.

“That’s just part of the gift.” Next, he handed her a large sketchbook- more than double the size of her current book. “This part… I’m not sure if you’ll like it. If not, just remember how excited you were about the books.”

She frowned as she accepted the book. On the first page, Lucien had faithfully copied her plans for Helion’s palace gardens- including the details she’d only added the night before. There was a white stick resting on the page the size and thickness of her sketching pencil. Lucien pulled the sheet off the table revealing-

-nothing.

“Watch.” Lucien grinned nervously as he flipped the sheet over, revealing a large white linen square also covered in black lines. It was a scaled-up version of the sketch. He spread the cloth on the floor and took the sketch pad from Elain, “Pick a plant.”

She did as he asked, choosing a page of daisies in various hues. Lucien tapped the white stick to one of the images until it emitted a soft pulse of light. Next he touched it to the sketchbook and dragged it across a section of the page.

In the book, a thin line followed the pen- tiny miniature portraits of the plant. On the blanket the same design appeared slightly larger in detailed embroidery. Lucien flipped the stylus to the other side- where an eraser might be- and circled a section of her plans. The area he circled was swollen on the sheet until it filled the white square, giving her even more detail on the plants. Elain gasped and Lucien wiped a finger across the line of green, erasing everything he touched. Two sharp taps of the flat end shrunk the sheet-map once more.

“It will match whichever page of the sketchbook you have open, you just have to make sure to draw your scale marker in first so it knows how big things should be. You can use the broad side of the pointer to draw thicker swaths of plants- that’s especially useful for the grass and mulch.”

Elain was as speechless as he had been. Lucien handed the pointed to her and she drew more flowers onto the notebook- which promptly filled in on the sheet. She could hang it in her office as a tapestry to actually  _see_  the garden she was designing far more clearly depicted than her clumsy hand could manage.

“Lucien, this is  _perfect_ ,” she breathed. Both deposited their books on the table so Elain could kiss her husband. She was smiling as their lips met, “Thank you. I can’t wait to look through everything! You just made my job infinitely easier.” She looked at the thick tomes of plants and features, “Or maybe harder!” So many possibilities, how could she ever choose?

He grinned broadly, “Really? You like it? This isn’t another glove-thing?” Now-famously, he’d once given her thorn-proof gloves to protect her while she worked, not realizing the dirt and scrapes were half her fun.

“You’re the only one who thinks that was a ‘thing’.” Elain rolled her eyes, “It was a nice gesture, and one I appreciated. Regardless- this really is an amazing gift. I love it.” She kissed him again, “Two and a half hours to the echo, should we get a head start?”

His nerves returned in full force, “That depends.”

“Oh what?”

“If you like your other presents.” Lucien’s heart began to pound harder.

Suspicion lit her eyes, “Other presents? Would this have something to do with how you were last night?”

“Yes. Wait here.” He kissed her once more and pulled himself from her side.

“What did you do?!” Elain gasped as Lucien returned, buried once more beneath the weight of all he’d bought.

He didn’t answer until he’d set the parcels down on the coffee table. Elain moved her new books (which she’d been skimming when he walked in) to an end table. Lucien knelt on the floor by her feet and took her hands in his, “I can’t give you exactly what you want… but I’m hoping we can work out a compromise.”

“What I want?” she frowned in confusion as Lucien picked up the smallest package and handed it to her. He had an idea of what might be inside each parcel and what order to present it.

Elain accepted a flat box nearly the length of her forearm. It hardly had any weight to it, and her confusion grew. She tugged at a petal of the ribbon-rose to release it, “You’ve been conspiring with Anwynn?”

“Yes.”

She cut through the tape at the ends of the paper with a nail and neatly slid a white gift box free. Elain cast one last suspicious look down to Lucien before opening it.

Inside was a blindfold of black satin overlaid with an opal lace- something Anwynn developed personally. The lace shimmered- at once a pale ivory yet flecked with every color imaginable. The blindfold bulged slightly over the eyes so that it would not rest directly upon them. It was something he’d found not with the restraints and toys, but with general accessories.

“It’s beautiful, but I don’t understand why it’s a compromise,” Elain traced the lace. “We play with blindfolds often enough.”

“But not with this.” He handed her a square box next, this one with a bit more weight. She quickly discarded paper and ribbon before opening the case.

Inside was a black leather collar overlaid with that same opal lace. There were metal loops at the front and back where a leash might be clipped. Elain shivered and licked her lips, “Lucien, is this-“

“Open this one next.” He handed her a heavy rectangular box. Inside were silver chains with a black leather tube connecting them. On the top of the tube was a small loop where another leash or chain might be clipped. At the ends of the chains already in the box- intricate filigree nipple clamps.

The next box held the leash- an adjustable thin leather one that worked both with the collar and the end of the clamps. After that was a matching cuff set- long strips that would hook into the eyelets on their bedframe and connect to wrist and ankle bands. Bondage was nothing new to Elain and Lucien- it was a favorite form of play for both.

After that came a much longer satin-and-lace leash, one to tie Elain to a hook over their front bedroom window. The heaviest box held a long metal bar that ended in twin manacles padded with thick leather. It could be adjusted for width up to several feet, however far Elain was comfortable with.

Together, she and Lucien opened boxes containing their new undergarments. For Elain, Anwynn had kept with Lucien’s color and materials theme. Her breasts would be largely exposed, with webbing of opal and black lace to push her breasts together and hold them as a presentation of sorts. A barely-there girdle would sit around her stomach and give Lucien something else he could hold on to as well. There were no panties in the ensemble, but rather a thin black garter belt that connected to long black tights dotted in opal roses.

Lucien’s box had satin pants that would come to his knees. An opal ribbon was wound in stages through eyelets on the inside seam pants all the way up through the crotch, but if he looked closely he could see that there were actually several laces on each side. He was confused for a moment before he realized the purpose behind them- Elain would be able to remove the ties with her tongue.

Even a mental image of the act was enough to make him hard.

“This is the best I can offer you,” Lucien handed Elain the final package. It was another long one, but narrow. “I’m sorry it isn’t what you wanted.”

She kissed his forehead before opening the final gift. Inside was a smooth black handled flog that ended in dozens of strips of knotted black or opal ribbon.

Lucien swallowed hard, “I’m sorry Elain, you said on your birthday that you wanted to play with crops and I just- I can’t do that. I can’t be like  _him_. I can’t hurt you.”

 _Him_ \- Beron.

Elain closed her eyes and cursed herself soundly, “Tell me why you were so distant last night. Please, be honest.”

“On your birthday, when I refused, you looked disappointed. I know this isn’t enough. I know it’s not exactly what you’d asked for… I was afraid you wouldn’t like it.”

“Lucien, I was upset with  _myself_  that day. Not you. I knew the second I asked that you would refuse and why. I shouldn’t have made you say it.”

“But it’s what you want,” he looked at his hands. “I just- I just can’t.”

“A riding crop isn’t going to put a dent in this marriage,” Elain lifted his face until he was looking back at her. “It’s one sex toy, and not one we even need. Lucien- if you told me we could have nothing but soft missionary sex for the rest of eternity I  _still_  wouldn’t be disappointed.”

“Yes you would,” he murmured and tried to smile.

Elain laughed, “Alright, I would tie you to the bed and mount you until you changed your mind. Still- it’s always perfectly fine to set limits.”

“You’ve never turned me down for anything.”

She raised an eyebrow, “I won’t let you spread syrup between my legs and lick it off.” They’d had that discussion just the other night after sharing a bowl of iced cream.

“Yeah, I went to the library yesterday morning and you were right. Food is not supposed to be around that particular orifice.”

“The riding crop is no different than chocolate syrup. It’s something we just won’t do.”

Lucien’s worry was turning more towards embarrassment that he’d let something so simple trouble him in the first place. He pulled Elain tighter against his chest and tipped over backwards, dragging her along so that they lay side-by-side on the cream carpet, “I’m an idiot.”

“No you’re not. We just have to work on communicating a little better. I should have said something back on my birthday.”

His mind drifted back to the pamphlet Anwynn had given him, “In the interest of communication-“

“I like it when you pull my hair, a firm hand on my throat is alright but I’m not comfortable with choking, we agree to disagree on spanking, you know I’ll always be happy with harder and faster, and my safe word is still ‘Marigold’.”

Lucien knew all of those things already, “Actually, when I bought the new stuff, Anwynn gave me a pamphlet on what to expect after we’re done. How to take care of you- and me- so that there are no lingering problems. How to make sure we get back to this.” He traced a hand lightly on his wife’s cheek “Both of us- but you in particular- could be a bit lost once it’s over.”

“I remember.” Elain shifted and a shadow flickered in her eyes. Lucien knew he wasn’t the first man-male she’d ever had. He was the first and only fae she had ever made love to, the third male she’d had any sort of relationship with, but the fourth she’d taken to bed (thanks to a disappointing threesome between her first lover and a friend).  The third man she’d bedded was interested in domination and submission, and he was the one who introduced her to that world.

“What happened, if it’s alright to ask?”

Elain shrugged, “He thought when we were done we were just done. We didn’t want Nesta or Feyre to find out, so I would have to walk home afterwards. It’s like… like drinking too much, or being lost. It was always days before I felt quite right, and it changed how we were together entirely. I don’t think he meant to- we were both just figuring it all out and didn’t do a very good job of it.”

“Here,” Lucien tipped up just far enough to open the end-table drawer where he’d placed the pamphlet. He handed it to Elain and laid back down beside her, “Let’s figure it out together.”

They spent the next hour laying on the floor reading and re-reading the pamphlet. Elain made a few suggestions of things that might help, but they would have to play it by ear this first time. Neither knew how everything might go when the echo was thrown into the mix.

Unfortunately Lucien needed the echo to push him this first time.

“Hey-“ Elain nudged him and nodded to the clock. Half an hour left. “We should probably get ready.”

“Aright,” Lucien stood and helped Elain to her feet. He gathered all of her new toys and accessories in his arms while she took the boxes holding their new lingerie.

Elain ducked into the bathroom one last time and changed into her new outfit, Lucien attached cuffs and ropes to hooks throughout the room. As he finished hanging the longer leash, Elain came out at last.

He moaned at the sight of her. She’d tightened each strap so that the clothing hugged her as a second skin. Her breasts were peaked and pushed together, emphasizing their size. Each areola was delicately pink- a perfect match to the lipstick she’d applied. Between her legs, Elain was freshly waxed and Lucien’s pants tightened at the thought of that soft skin against his lips.

“Where do I start?” Her question wasn’t part of their play- that would start when Lucien had changed. Still, she felt a pulse in her core at the smoldering lust in his gaze.

“On your knees,” his voice was rough. “Right here, by the window.” He bent down and pulled away a large scarlet rug to reveal a break in the cream carpeting where a wooden floor was hidden.

Elain obeyed while Lucien fetched the remaining accessories. He buckled her collar around her throat and let her tighten it while he flicked at her breasts. Satisfied that her nipples were ready, he pinched the clamps on and tightened them only enough to hold against the weight of the chain. Again, as Lucien moved on to help her into other accessories, Elain tightened them herself.

“Ready for the cuffs?” he asked.

“One thing really quick.” She grabbed his hand and directed it to the leather grip at the center of her chain. Lucien pinched it and she pulled his hand up slowly until she winced, “That’s maximum.” Elain set the boundary when the grip was nearly eye-level.

“Wow, that far? Alright.” Lucien pointed to one of the clips, “If anything starts hurting too much, your safe word will unlock those. As for the cuffs-“ he gathered Elain’s hands behind her and strapped on the thick leather. Lucien took her pointer fingers just as Anwynn had his and showed her where the emergency release was, “Got it?”

“Got it. And the legs?” She glanced back as Lucien pushed the spreader bar into place. He supported her with a hand on her chest as she leaned forward and angled her foot into the manacle at the end.

“There is a notch in the center, it will be right beneath your hands. Just find that and push. It will pull your legs in slowly, then pop open. Nothing too sudden. If your hands are above you, just roll your feet in opposite directions three times.”

Elain’s hair was loose, but he pulled it up halfway while she waited. “What do you want me to do with  _my_  hair?” He asked her.

“Braid it back. You look sexier.” She smiled and shifted her knees, adjusting to her bound position.

“Of course, my lady.” Lucien picked up the blind fold, “Ready?”

“Ready- but kiss me before you go change.”

“Before I get into character?” Lucien snorted. He kissed each of Elain’s eyelids before sliding the blindfold into place. He pulled the top half of her hair through the band so that it sat across the middle of her head, then tightened the strap down slowly- mindful of any hairs that found their way into the clasp. Only when he was sure he would be able to pull it off without scalping her did Lucien undo the tie on her hair and let it all fall down once more.

“A proper kiss,” Lucien rested his forehead against hers and slowly dipped his chin until their lips touched. Elain’s lips moved against his and he smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He backed away slowly, headed towards a window that overlooked their workspaces in the back yard. It was already spelled heavily against sound and sight, so he didn’t hesitate to open it and allow cool morning air into the room, “Tell me if you get too cold.”

“I will.” Elain smiled at the kiss of wind against her skin.

Lucien left her there in darkness to wait for his return. All she could do was smile as she imagined what he would do to her. This bondage was nothing too new, but a Lucien who was dominant and commanding in the bedroom (on occasion)? That was what she looked forward to the most.

As best as they could estimate, their echo would hit at about ten thirteen. Elain shuddered in anticipation as the moment drew closer. She could feel it sneaking closer, like a tension around their bond that would snap and release another wave of their frenzy. There would be no clock chime to warn her before it hit, it would simply devour her.

“What are you grinning at?”

Elain shouted in surprise and nearly fell over. Lucien had somehow slipped across the room without her even hearing him. His voice was a whisper against the curve of her ear- mate or no, it sent a jolt of fear through her.

He caught Elain as she tipped to the side and roughly straightened her, then put a comforting hand on her shoulder. It would take some time for him to warm to his new role.

“Guess what I found in the bathroom?” His voice was low, cold.

“What?” she frowned. She hadn’t left anything in there when she changed. Her first nightgown was folded neatly on a small shelf. It was the proper place- Elain and Lucien both had their own for clothes they did not need to worry about washing yet.

A hand clamped around her throat immediately and Elain gasped. He was well within her tolerance, but the action surprised her, “What–?” he waited for her to finish.

“What  _sir_?” Elain asked, breathless.

“Better, pet.” Lucien released her. He had no idea what she wanted to be called, he just knew she didn’t want him to use her name.

Elain waited in darkness, her heart thundering. She dug her nails into her palm to fight the smile back from her lips. Lucien was doing  _so well_ , but she had to swallow the temptation to tell him so.

Something touched Elain’s lips and she jumped again. It was hard and cool. He was just barely holding it to her mouth and before she could figure out what it was, he began to spin the object. Lucien showed Elain the shape of whatever she’d left, “The sooner you guess, the less trouble you’ll be in.”

The edge vanished from her lips and reappeared moments later on her breast where it swirled around a nipple. She couldn’t figure out what it was. At least, not until he rested it sideways against her breast and she felt the way the cold sides angled inwards.

“ _Don’t forget to start the hourglass this time,_ ” Lucien leaned in to whisper in Elain’s ear, repeating what he’d said that morning. “This hourglass takes four hours to run out, and yet here it is. Not a grain of sand in the top.”

She’d forgotten. Even as he teased her for not remembering  _one time_ , she’d forgotten.

_Shit!_

“I’m sorry, I forgot… sir.” She’d never hear the end of it.

Lucien set the hourglass aside and touched a finger to Elain’s chest, warning her silently where he was going. She braced herself as he grabbed the chain between her nipples and tugged, hauling her up so that she was forced to sit up on her knees and expose her rear, “That hourglass is for your own safety. You could hurt yourself leaving it in too long.”

Elain whimpered as the clamps yanked at her nipples, but bolts of electricity seemed to flash beneath her skin down to her core. She felt the mating bond again- tight and ready to snap. The echo was building beneath her skin.

She didn’t know how she would stand with her hands bound behind her and her legs trapped in the manacles, but Elain needn’t worry. Once she was up high enough, Lucien’s pull changed direction. He forced her forward and down. Something warm and sturdy caught her across her stomach and Elain realized what he was doing- he was pulling her over his knee.

He would never spank her properly, not in the way she wanted. That would make him feel too much like his father. Still, Elain hoped he would find some way to make it sting.

Lucien dragged his mate forward by her nipple clamps, more than a little thankful that she was blindfolded. He could sound cold and dangerous, but his eyes were still soft.

_Do this properly for her._

Truth be told, the hourglass was still around half-full, and running as it should be. He just needed something to help him set the tone. Now that he had a beginning point for their play, he would simply let it take its course.

Lucien’s hand slipped down Elain’s back towards the firm curve of her backside. Exposed by her new position was her birthday present- a pink crystal flower attached to a small metal shaft that vanished into his wife at her second entrance. Elain’s favorite little toy, right where she liked it.

He was counting the seconds until the echo struck, and his hands moved ever closer to that flower. Lucien squeezed her soft skin and circled the metal shaft with his thumb. He pulled at the skin, stretching it back out and readying it for what he had planned. Elain began to breathe harder as the mating bond tightened further,  _further_ , until-

As that tether snapped and a roaring filled Lucien’s mind, he pulled the flower out. The thin rod opened after an inch or so into a large teardrop-shaped bulb. Her puckered skin stretched wide as he quickly and smoothly pulled it from her rear.

Elain came with a shuddering cry as the tether amplified every sensation. Pain and pleasure crashed into one another and her body didn’t know which to feel. All she knew was that it made her even wetter.

When Lucien snuck into the room to surprise Elain, he’d brought with him the plug’s container, now filled with cleaning solution. He quickly deposited the flower inside before grabbing the back of Elain’s neck and yanking her up off his knee, “Who said you could come?” His voice was rougher even than before, and his satin pants were agonizingly tight.

“I’m sorry, sir!” Elain gasped.

“WHO SAID YOU COULD COME?!” He shouted, though fear filled his heart when she flinched at the sound. He made a mental note to keep his voice lower.

“No one, sir.” Her thighs were shaking as she fell back down to sit on her feet. They couldn’t close with the spreader as open as it was, and the scent of her climax quickly filled the room.

Lucien growled, “So then why did you,  _pet_?”

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t help it. I’ll do better, sir. I promise.”

“Prove it,” Lucien grabbed Elain’s chin and pulled her face down to the side of his knee where the satin lace of his pants began. “Take them off. And don’t you dare use your hands.”

 _This game is one of her gifts,_  he reminded himself.  _Don’t stop playing until she does._

Elain’s lips brushed against his leg and Lucien forced himself to swallow his moan. The echo had crashed over him with as much pleasure and need as hers. It was taking every ounce of control to keep from throwing her on the bed and burying himself in her until they were both incapable of movement.

Her tongue against his skin made Lucien harder. He had to even the score with Elain and  _fast_. They were in the throws of the echo now- normal physical limitations did not apply, and he intended to take full advantage.

She delivered soft kisses and scraped her teeth against his skin as she pulled the laces out one by one. Anwynn had ensured no ribbon was too long, and after only a few inches Elain held an opal tie in her teeth.

“Where would you like me to put this, sir?” She asked around the lace.

“Spit it on the floor, pet.”

“Yes, sir.” She did as she was told.

“Keep it even,” Lucien snapped when Elain turned back to the same leg. He hated speaking so sharply to his wife, but at least his voice could sound convincing enough. When Lucien browsed Anwynn’s shop, the first accessory he’d decided on was the blindfold. Without it he had no hope of giving her this gift.

It took Elain a moment to find his other leg, but she rose up on her knees and set to work again on his pants. Inch by inch, her lips and tongue moved closer to his bulging crotch. Elain would reach his testicles first, then kiss her way up and around the front of his member to undo the final tie.

At the first touch of her lips against the delicate flesh beneath his length, Lucien growled once more and grabbed her hair in a fist. He pushed her against him and controlled her speed, savoring the feeling of her mouth as she took his balls one at a time. With the tie gone she sucked them into her mouth and massaged each with her tongue. Back and forth Elain went, making sure neither was neglected. Her mate had resisted shaving especially for her, and she moaned as his stubble scraped against her face.

As soon as he felt his body tighten, Lucien yanked Elain’s hair and pulled her further up the pants to turn her attentions once more on those pesky ties.

She couldn’t see him staring hard at the ceiling, willing himself to think of anything besides the lips brushing now against his shaft through that thin satin. If he thought about it- or looked down- he would erupt.

Lucien’s breathing hitched as Elain’s tongue glanced across the head of his cock. The moment her tongue curled around the top tie he pulled her head away.

“Here is what’s going to happen, my pet,” Lucien panted, “you’re going to lay on the bed where I tell you to and suck my cock. If you do it  _well_ , I will let you touch yourself. If not- or if you give yourself permission to come again- I will tie you to the wall and fuck you until you can’t remember your safe word. Understood?”

He could scent Elain’s answer in the drip of moisture that slipped down the inside of her thigh, “Yes, sir.” Her voice was slightly higher, innocent. She knew it drove him insane, she was trying to make him lose control. Lucien supposed it was only fair- he intended to use every last trick he’d learned in the last year to push her over the edge time and again, until she was begging for mercy.

Lucien undid the clasp between Elain’s cuffs and helped her stand. Her legs were immobilized by the spreader bar, but he simply lifted her beneath her arms and carried her over to the bed, then shoved her roughly across it. She fell with a happy squeak and immediately stretched out her arms. Lucien circled the bed and connected her wrist cuffs to the straps meant for her right arm and leg. She opened her mouth wide, ready, but nothing came.

Elain waited in darkness and listened for some hint of Lucien’s steps. He could be slippery as a fox when he wanted to be. She didn’t dare close her mouth. Minutes ticked by and the pounding in her core only increased. Her climax when Lucien ripped the plug from her left her body hungry and aching for something else to fill it.

A finger traced her lips and Elain jumped once more. She couldn’t stop the squeak of surprise at his touch.

“Remember,” Lucien said, “do a good job and you’ll get a reward. Act without my permission and I will make sure you can’t walk right for a week. Do you understand, pet?”

“Yes sir. I promise I’ll do my best.”

Elain was pulled towards the edge of the bed further, until her head was completely off the mattress. Lucien’s thumb circled her lips once more as he gently stroked his cock. When she rolled her hips- a sign that her body was aching for him- he pushed forward and replaced his thumb with the head of his cock.

She sucked at it as best she could, and Lucien pushed forward slowly. He used the same gentle roll of his hips as when he fucked her properly. Anything less and she would have trouble accepting him in her throat. His eyelids grew heavy at the sensation of her lips and teeth along his shaft at last.

He knew how far she could take him in this position, and Lucien paused once he’d reached her maximum, “This is mine.” He grabbed the leather of her nipple clamps and pulled it slowly up her chest, along her throat, and over her chin.

Her body jerked against the various restraints as the vicious pressure of the clamps sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain. Lucien stopped the chain when it was level with her lips, giving him only a few inches of room. He locked his arm in place and pulled out of Elain’s mouth. With just the tip was in, he adjusted where he held the length of leather so that it was parallel with her eyes- the limit she’d set.

Elain squealed around his cock as he began to thrust in and out of her mouth, yanking the clamps with each retreat. The scent of arousal only grew and he smiled, “You like this, don’t you little pet?”

“Yes, sir!” she gasped the next time he pulled out, then opened her mouth wide to accept him once more.

The hollowing of her cheeks every time he pulled out was Lucien’s favorite sight, but he couldn’t deny that he also took pleasure in the way her throat rippled as he pushed into it. He made sure his pace allowed her a breath between thrusts, and paid close attention to the position of the nipple chains, lest he accidentally move them too far.

“Bend your knees.” Lucien ordered. The roughness in his voice wasn’t entirely feigned.

Elain obeyed in an instant.

“Good. Now, open your hand. When I release you, I want you to rub your clit with what I hand you.”

Her hand snapped open in an instant. Lucien maintained his thrusts, but reached over and grabbed what he had vanished to retrieve- a bowl of ice. He set it down beside Elain’s left side and picked a large cube. As Lucien transferred it to Elain’s right hand, he sent some of his power into the air around the ice- softening it so that there was no risk of it sticking (as it had one horrible night).

Elain’s long, low moan when the ice touched her hand was almost enough to make Lucien erupt. He unclipped her wrist and- as instructed- in a moment she was swirling the ice around that knot at the apex of her thigs.

“Remember, pet: You only get to come when I say you can.” Lucien patted Elain’s cheek as he thrust in and she did her best to nod.

The next time Lucien pulled out, Elain momentarily took the ice off of her body to push his hand back against his stomach- a few inches higher than the original maximum she’d set for that chain. Elain’s breathing was ragged with both pain and desire, but she didn’t move her hand back between her legs until Lucien’s own relaxed flat against his abdomen.

Order received.

She returned to swirling the ice through her lower lips and around her knot, and slowly Lucien resumed his motion. He gave Elain time to change her mind if she needed to- but she was considerably more warmed up now than she had been when she first set the limit. Her cries as he pulled out were more pronounced, but so were her deep moans of approval. Elain’s hips ground into the bed as she pushed the ice harder and harder against her clit.

The tremor in her thighs gave her away, “Don’t you dare come,” Lucien said smoothly. Elain whimpered and forced her hand to slow. Melting ice dripped through her core and made her burn even hotter.

“You nearly disobeyed me, didn’t you?” He pulled out so that Elain could answer.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, but I promise I didn’t come.”

“You tried to, and that’s enough to earn a punishment.” Lucien took the black leather connector at the center of her nipple chains and began to twist it. As the two ends wrapped around themselves the overall length shortened. Once he was satisfied, Lucien slid the black leather connection into Elain’s collar. It sat wider than the leather loop, locking it into place (as Anwynn promised it would).

“I’m not going to be gentle anymore. Keep that ice on your clit, and we’ll see if you’re still feeling rebellious, pet.” He saw Elain shiver in anticipation as she opened her mouth and took his cock once more.

He thrust into her mouth harder and faster than before. Her breasts swung with the motion- or tried to. Every time he pulled himself forward on her shoulders the chain went suddenly tight and she squealed against his shaft. It was a sharp, relentless bite that she could not control as Lucien used her body for leverage.

Elain’s hand shuddered as she fought her orgasm back. She lost the ice, but there was no picking it up again. Lucien reached out and delivered a sharp swat to her clit (though nothing harder than he had done in past games). That would be her only punishment for losing the ice.

“Swallow every drop,” he ground out, then pushed one last time into her throat.

Elain shuddered as Lucien erupted. Her mate’s seed- the strongest aphrodisiac for a fae. If she still had the ice in her hand, she would have come despite his command.

Lucien loosed a soft, deep cry as Elain took his release expertly. He pulled back with heavy steps, giving her more room while he stroked as much of his cock as he could touch. He felt himself emptying, but the echo helped fill her far more than normal.

She couldn’t swallow fast enough, not in that position, and so Elain just held her mouth open and let Lucien slowly pull himself free. She was breathing hard through her nose. As soon as he was out he quickly undid the other restraint on her and tipped her up by her shoulders so that he supported her weight on his chest and made her job easier.

For now, at least, his cock hung limp.

She finished swallowing and Lucien passed her a small cube of ice to melt against her tongue and help rinse her mouth. Elain’s cheeks were bright red, and Lucien touched his palms to his own face, checking their temperature. Not scorching, but certainly warm.

Madja had warned of that too- that the echo may loosen control on his magic. Not enough to endanger Elain, but there was a reason he began by opening a window to allow the cold spring air in.

“I dropped my ice, sir.” Elain gasped, “I’m sorry.”

“You received your punishment for that already.” He slid her chains back out of the collar.

She sighed when the tension in her breasts vanished, “Thank you, sir.”

Lucien’s smile was soft as he traced Elain’s lips again. What did he want next? How would he torment her in that wicked, perfect way they enjoyed?

“We’re going to play another game. One you won’t like.” He knelt and adjusted so that Elain’s head rested on his shoulder. She was still propped up slightly, and Lucien pulled her wrist over to reconnect it with the restraints. No moving her arms.

“Yes sir,” Elain shivered and tried to clench her thighs. The bar kept her from any relief.

He glanced to her hourglass and used his magic to winnow it to him. With a wave of his hand, he changed how quickly the sand would fall.

“Endure it for five minutes, pet.” Lucien whispered into Elain’s ear as he picked up the abandoned chain from her nipple clamps and slid the black leather grip between her teeth. “And before you ask- no. At no point will you have permission to come. If you accept your punishment well, I’ll grant you a wish.”

Before Elain knew what was happening, Lucien’s fingers were sliding through her soaked folds and pushing into her. She screamed into the chain and threw her head back- yanking at her breasts. The sensation only enhanced that of her mate’s hand. She kicked her legs, struggling against the manacles to throw herself harder against him.

Lucien chuckled, “You sound so lewd.” He bit the curve of her ear lightly and flipped the hourglass. When she remembered she could lift her hips to push against his hand, he slid the other one down her abdomen and pinned her to the bed.

Elain was strong, but he was far, far stronger.

She grunted and gasped, screamed and thrashed in his grip. Her every movement was contrary to itself- a struggle to push harder into his fingers while also trying to slip them out just a bit- far enough so that he wasn’t rubbing against that textured ridge of flesh that was as strong a stimulant as her knot. If Elain’s mind wasn’t buried in a pleasure-fog she might have given silent thanks that he wasn’t pushing on that as well. She wasn’t sure she could endure without reaching climax.

Lucien watched her intently, adjusting speed and strength as her control faltered. She was clenching his fingers tighter than he thought she was capable of with just her core. Even spread as she was- he began to question if  _he_  could continue the assault for five minutes.

Sometimes he moved quickly and forcefully, until Elain’s legs began to jerk and she threw back her head in a throaty scream. Other times- when his wrist tired- he slowed and just gently circled the ridged skin of her nerves. As the sands slipped through, Elain was only getting wetter.

“You’ve done very well,” Lucien whispered in her ear with nearly a minute left. “But I don’t really want to grant you a wish, so let’s see how you handle this.”

His entire hand was soaked by her juices, so it was simply a matter of angling his ring finger down and then inward.

Elain’s scream was edged in a sob of frustration as Lucien’s finger pressed against her other entrance. The plug she’d worn earlier left her open enough that he slid in with little resistance.

He could hear the words in her cry as clearly as if she’d shouted them down the mating bond:  _Not fair!_  She had thrown every last ounce of her will into ignoring her core as Lucien teased her, but now he curled his ring finger so that it stroked the back of his middle finger with only a thin, sensitive line of flesh separating them.

Lucien grinned at the bright red flush against her cheeks. The move was one Elain lovingly called “The Great Cheat”- something he’d learned set her off in record time, no matter how many climaxes he’d already wrested from her. He usually only did it during one of their little lovemaking competitions.

Elain’s hips strained against his hand and she threw her head back again- trying to use the pain of her nipple clamps to grant some relief from the agonizing glory between her legs. Lucien knew her eyes would be clenched tight beneath the blindfold. She was trying anything and everything to distract herself.

One minute, she just had to endure one more minute.

“Don’t come pet,” he teased, drawing her attention to his voice and away from whatever she was using to withstand his hand. He slid his thumb up to rest against her knot, drawing another scream of exasperation. Somehow, she tightened her core even harder- which made what he was doing all the more difficult to endure without taking the blessed release.

“Don’t think about my hand between your legs. I’m inside you- and you’re  _so wet_. So warm. Doesn’t it feel good?” he whipped his thumb across her knot even as he ramped up the intensity of his touch. He leaned over and nipped at the chain, abruptly tightening the pressure on it. Elain’s hips shot forward against his hand and her useless arms gripped the sheets tight.

She was trapped in a long, enduring scream as she wrestled against her own body’s aching need for release. On a normal day it would be torture. With the call of the echo, it was enough to shutter Elain’s senses entirely. She was losing herself in the pleasure and her role. A part of herself was shutting down to simply obey the voice at her ear.

“Don’t come,” he repeated, though now he was moving as quickly as he was capable of. Lucien’s arm burned all the way up to his shoulder. He watched the hourglass running out and slid his pinky against his ring finger so that four fingers filled Elain. Her entire body went hard and tense, but she didn’t come.

The last sands ran through.

“Good, my little pet.” Lucien whispered against her ear. His hand abruptly slowed as he slid his fingers from her. He slid his thumb to the space just above her knot- the top ridge of its hood. As soon as his hand was off her abdomen he expected her to move, but that tension remained. She was shaking from it- burning as she tried not to come.

She was  _visibly_  resisting grinding herself against his thumb.

“What do you wish for, pet? And don’t say you want to come. That’s boring.”

Everything in her body and soul was focused on the thumb above her knot. There was nothing in her world beyond that. Even without the blindfold, Elain wouldn’t have been able to see. She was breathing hard, whimpering and growling with the effort it took to hold her orgasm at bay.

“Pet,” he yanked slightly on the nipple clamps to get her attention, “your master asked what you wanted as your reward. Answer me,  _now._ ” The words were slow, drawn out.

She whimpered, but managed just one word, “ _More_.” Her voice cracked- she was desperate. She needed his hand back inside her- or perhaps something longer. She needed to feel more pleasure- to have that wave break over her and shatter her very being.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He loosened the restraints on her wrists enough to move Elain across the bed. Lucien circled to the other side and grabbed her hips, dragging her until her feet were on the floor. Her arms were stretched as far as the restraints allowed- there wouldn’t be any opportunity to move. Lucien knew he would have to keep an eye on her hands, just in case the cuffs cut off blood flow.

“Keep the chain in your teeth,” Lucien instructed. He retrieved the hourglass, then planted a foot on the spreader bar to keep her feet locked to the ground. Too much weight and it would bite into the tops of her feet, so he put a hard wall of air beneath the bar to ensure it wouldn’t harm her.

The sounds of her fighting her release combined with the heat and moisture inside her had made him hard once again. Lucien stroked himself with his still-damp hand. It would take some angling to match his hips with hers, but he needed to be inside his mate. The echo had crashed into them both, but without that critical connection, the most primal edge of it was quiet.

“You said you wanted more?” he asked.

Elain nodded, “ _Please sir_ ,” she was completely breathless. Her words were caught in the leather guard of the chain somewhat, but he understood.

“Fine then.” Lucien set the hourglass sand-side-down on her stomach, just beneath her taught breasts, “Five more minutes, and if you let that fall off it becomes fifteen.” She cried at the realization that she had to endure another round without any release.

He grabbed something else on the edge of the bed- the satin flogger, and cracked it against Elain’s side. Lucien had tested it on himself when he went downstairs for the ice- nothing more than a sting from the knots at the end. Something small and hard was in the center of each knot to give it a bit more bite, but only enough of one to make its presence known.

That was why Lucien chose the satin one and not one of the nylon or leather flogging heads.

Elain jerked at the snap and cooed as she remembered the toy. While she was distracted, her mate pounced.

The release transferred to his cock coupled with her own dripping wetness was more than enough to facilitate his member as Lucien shoved all the way in in one mighty thrust. Elain screamed into the grip and nearly threw the hourglass off in her surprise. He caught it and used the end to force her arched back down onto the bed.

“Don’t. Let. That. Fall.” He swatted at her with the flog to punctuate each word- strikes to each hip and the underside of her breasts. He used the little display of dominance to grant her the chance to adjust to his shape. Elain  _needed_ release, and it was only because she was fighting so hard against it still that she did not come the moment Lucien’s cock touched her.

Now, with it inside her, her task was nearly impossible.

“Five minutes- and you can’t come. Starting  _now_.” He flipped the hourglass and pulled out until just the tip was inside her heat and warmth. “I’m going to make this unbearable.”

He wholly surrendered to the raging lust in his veins- that demon born of the echo. Lucien grabbed Elain’s hips and set a hard, fast rhythm that had him deep inside his mate and grinding against all of her favorite parts. He had to angle low with his hips, and supported most of his weight on one arm near Elain’s midsection.

Her screams as he’d fingered her were nothing compared the ones she loosed now. What she felt was stronger than any orgasm she had ever had- but without the relief. It was the cruelest torture and most sinfully delicious gift. She felt as though she were trying to hold a tsunamis back with just a small hand, but she fought that mighty wave tooth and nail as her mate became something more animal than fae. No amount of pain in her breasts could fight against the feeling of him slamming into her or his growling shouts in her ear.

New heat flooded Elain’s core as Lucien came again- but it didn’t make him slow for a second. She took that heat and it very nearly cost her the war. Rope after rope- her mate’s seed filled her and yet he didn’t soften at all. She screamed with the effort of battling back all those feelings that had destroyed her conscious mind.

Lucien filling her without (apparent) care for her own desire- she was nothing more than an object for his pleasure. The thought turned Elain on more than she would ever have imagined was possible.

Each time she felt the wave gain ground, something light nipped at her breasts- the flog. It added just enough pain to help her push back, tighten her core harder, and damn herself further.

She couldn’t worry about how long she had left, she was holding as still as possible to keep the hourglass in place, but everything inside of her was roaring and thrashing. Lucien came again and Elain screamed hard and loud-

-she lost the chain.

Her lifeline. The only hope she had of making it through another century of this beautiful torment.

Lucien couldn’t help but play devil once more.

He ripped the blindfold off of Elain and grabbed her hair. Before her eyes could even adjust to the light he threw the hourglass aside and yanked her up just far enough to see his emptying cock splitting the lips of her sex.

“Look how red you are, my pet.” He growled as she blinked against the light and those beautiful eyes rolled up into her head, “ _I said- look at how red you are!_ ”

He pulled at her hair and Elain’s eyes managed to focus for a moment. Her split skin was hot and swollen, as flushed as the rest of her while he pumped in and out. A layer of white cream had built along his shaft- not the remainder of his twin releases, but rather the froth that formed from her own arousal.

The sight was almost enough to shred Elain’s control. She was holding on by a thread, nothing more.

With a grunt Lucien stopped moving. Truth be told, the hourglass had run out long before he spilled his second load. He wanted to punish Elain again- to play dark games with her body until she was begging him for release. Her control was iron, and he hadn’t found the right trigger to melt her.

Elain’s eyes rolled up into her head again as he released her hair. She was shaking, shuddering around him and yet she had done more admirably than he ever would have imagined.

“Pet,” he barked, his voice rough and hard. He removed the foot holding down her spreader bar and stepped back, withdrawing from her entirely, “ _Come._ ”

Her entire body lifted off of the bed and she screamed hard enough to wreck her throat for days. The tsunamis she was warring with drowned her beneath its assault- punishment for making it wait. Her release as well as Lucien’s poured onto the floor beneath them. Lucien didn’t move, didn’t speak, and didn’t touch her as Elain continued to roar and shake.

Wave after wave- orgasm after orgasm. Elain had held on so hard that it took no encouragement to let loose every last ounce of pleasure her body was capable of feeling. She gasped for air- a long, hard sound, and her body went suddenly limp. She continued to breathe hard and fast, but her eyes rolled up into her head.

She had passed out.

Lucien undid the clasp on her wrists and linked the cuffs together once more. He saw Elain’s head twitch, then start slightly as consciousness slowly returned.

“Come along.”

Lucien lifted the still half-awake Elain over one shoulder and walked her to the wooden floor- and the longer leash suspended there. He used a blind hand to find the end of the leash, then the connector on Elain’s cuffs. She wouldn’t be able to stand properly, but the rope would hold her weight.

Elain didn’t even seem to notice when he set her down. Her toes barely reached the floor, and she hung entirely from her wrists as sweat dripped down her body to mingle with the stream of releases between her legs.

He smiled to himself as he turned to grab the shorter leash. Elain may have had other partners, but he was both first to draw the flood  _and_  knock her out.

Lucien clipped the short leash to the small loop at the center of the chain’s leather guard- a loop he was happy Elain hadn’t bitten down on during their play. He slipped the handle of the leash into a clasp on the windowsill, then pushed the curtains open wide. She could see all of Velaris- a perfect view of the distant mountains, the winding Sidra, and even passersby on the street.

By all accounts, they should be able to see her tied and bound- her breasts pulled straight in front, and her head lolling about at the violent release her mate had drawn. Thankfully the windows were enchanted against anyone seeing just that. Public and private at the same time- it was a dark desire that both Elain and Lucien shared- one that very nearly got them into trouble at Rita’s once upon a time.

Mercifully, when Mor had slumped exhausted into the booth after a dance, she didn’t even question why Elain might be sitting on Lucien’s lap. Even more mercifully, she’d run off again after chugging a glass of whiskey and they’d managed a quick finish.

“Hold this for me, pet.” Lucien grabbed the flog from the bed, flipped it upside down, and quickly pushed the handle up into Elain.

Her entire body jerked back to consciousness and she made a not-so-pleasurable sound at the intruder in her too-sensitive core. The motion yanked against the nipple clamps and Lucien grabbed Elain’s thighs before she swung further back from the leash. Her core tightened obediently around the flog, but her mind couldn’t even process what it was.

Lucien’s game had broken her- she couldn’t think beyond the exhaustion and the pleasure. All she knew was that if she listened, he would give her more.

Lucien flipped the latch on her feet and released Elain from the spreader. Her hips ached as she tried to bring her legs together. She’d fought both for and against just that for too long- those legs were utterly useless. There wasn’t even strength left in them to stand.

He could feel a quake in the echo- a pocket of sanity about to bloom among the lust. The more they fed their hungry bond, the longer that reprieve might last.

This was  _precisely_  why he’d played so hard with Elain’s body. To earn them enough time for a reset.

What he was about to do would buy them double what they’d already earned.

Lucien picked up the flower plug from the cleaning solution and rinsed it off with the melt from the ice he’d brought up. Elain was still finding her mind, but he didn’t want her coming back  _too_  far. Not yet.

He summoned the erotic oils from their bathroom- what Elain had used when she pushed the plug in earlier. After it was prepared, Lucien returned to her side.

“Deep breath, you get a special reward for being such a good pet.”

Elain shuddered in both anticipation and fear. When she felt the cold head of her plug press against her rear, she forced the tension in her body back a moment. Only once she nodded did he pull the flog out and push the plug in with a firm, slow hand.

The flog fell to the floor and Elain’s body thrashed as she tried (and failed) to use her legs. Lucien pinned her stomach and forced the plug in to its proper place while she squealed.

“You get to come first this time,” he whispered into her ear.

Lucien pushed Elain forward- easing the tension on her breasts as he parted her legs, aimed his cock, and pushed slowly into her.

Her entire body lifted on arms that found new, emergency strength. She was always tight, but with the added pressure of the plug it was hard for Lucien to even  _move_. If the last climax hadn’t wrecked her, she would have come again. She was unbelievably full- the plug was even massaging Lucien’s cock nearly to the point of pain.

“Tell me when it hurts,” he slid their bodies back from the window an inch at a time, pulling the chain on her breasts.

When he heard a sharp cry, Lucien took a half step forward, setting the boundary well within her limitations.

He started off their final round slowly, letting Elain find pleasure once more. She was so full her lower half ached, but it was beautiful. Different than how he’d tortured her earlier, but far from anything sweet or gentle. It was still an owning of her body, a declaration of possession.

“Come when you can, pet.”

Elain’s body tightened and she shuddered around his cock. With a soft cry everything went tight and loose- then her strength utterly failed her. It was a small orgasm, but all she was capable of.

At least, that’s what she thought.

“Unacceptable.” Lucien hissed in her ear.

His hand moved up between her breasts to grab her collar hard enough to make his presence known. The other hand released her leg so that she fell against his abdomen and the flower at the end of her plug hit his pelvis. It was driven into her just a few centimeters more, but it was enough to make her scream. Lucien thrust as hard and as fast as the position allowed while he whipped at her knot.

Elain’s voice cracked as she cried out. Lucien’s mouth was against her ear and she heard every grunt and gasp. Each time he shoved into her he pushed the plug in against her. It stirred within her constantly, making sure she didn’t adjust to its presence. As her body swung back away from the window the clamps bit into her nipples and bolts of pain shot down into the core he was attacking with such relentless speed.

Pain and pleasure mixing and morphing into one another- Elain felt a true tension rising that was born of both. Exhausted as she was, she could not resist the call of oblivion. Elain threw herself into the storm at her back.

Lucien felt the change in her and released her throat. He kept one hand whipping over her knot, but now his other found the flower protruding from her rear and took hold of it. The bulb slid out to its thickest width, and Lucien pinned it there. Holding her open further than she would have thought possible as he thrust into her hard and fast.

“Try again,” he whispered in Elain’s ear. “Come properly this time, pet.”

Her back arched again and her useless feet lifted entirely off the ground. Her core rippled and spasmed around his length as Elain came with a proper, all-consuming scream that ripped the air from her lungs and threw Lucien over the edge.

He released the flower to fall out entirely and slammed into her, filling her once again with rope after rope of hot seed. Her entire body shook and thrashed as muscles were forced to surrender more energy than they had left. Lucien ground his fingers against her knot, pushing her through the wave that carried her away far too quickly. Despite her sudden silence, he pumped into her until her body took the final ropes of cum from his softening cock.

Her head lulled to the side and Elain made a soft, quiet noise. It was little more than a whimpered squeak, but still her nipple clamps released and the leash fell. That told Lucien all he needed to know.

She had used her safe word for freedom. The game was over.

Lucien pulled himself from within her and reached up to unlatch her cuffs from the rope. Elain fell without legs to support her. Her mate caught her, but his own body was spent as well and they both ended up sagging to the floor.

Elain’s skin was rapidly cooling, losing the flushed heat of lust. She shivered against Lucien as he undid the cuffs and collar with shaking fingers. As spent as she was, he was only minutely better off.

He felt the soft gasp in the echo hit- a reprieve from its call.

“Elain?” Lucien murmured her name for the first time since the game began.

There was no response from the shaking form in his arms.

Lucien put every last piece of himself into scooping up Elain’s limp form. He couldn’t go far, so he took her to the bathroom. She would need to be somewhere they hadn’t played their game.

He turned the water of the tub on and slid her onto the cool marble as she began to stir. Soft noises that might have been attempts at speech came from shaking lips. Lucien winnowed himself into the kitchen below and fetched two glasses of water.

The water in the tub was neither hot nor cold. He set the glasses on the wide lip of the tub and leaned back onto an angled portion of the bathtub meant for reclining. Lucien pulled Elain’s body off the bench and parted his legs so that she could lay along his body. With his mate in his arms, Lucien let the water cover them both. He whispered her name again and again, and gently inspected the dark red lines left by both clamps and cuffs. The red markings on her ankles from the manacles would be checked once she was recovered.

“Come back to me, my love” he whispered in her ear, far gentler than the dominant male of the bedroom would. Lucien kissed the marks on her wrist and gently massaged the tight muscles.

He sat up only to turn the water off, and it was when he reclined once more that Elain’s fingers twitched and managed to wrap around his. Once she knew she was holding his hand, she pulled it across her stomach to rest in a more comfortable position.

“Are you alright?” Elain didn’t respond to Lucien’s question, but he needed her to. The lust was clearing and worry filled his heart. She’d used her safe word- that meant he went too far. Far too far. “Elain? Are you alright? Nod if you’re alright.”

She nodded weakly.

“Really?”

“Really,” her voice was hoarse, but she managed to shift and turn her face towards his, “really really.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled at the fear in his voice and her eyes fluttered open, “Perfect. Thank you.”

“Thank  _you_. You were incredible Elain, thank you for everything.” He kissed her neck. “The thing with the plug-“

“May have to be an echo-only kind of thing,” she groaned weakly against his chest at the soreness in her rear. “I don’t know if I could handle that normally.”

“I’m sorry,” he kissed the top of her head.

“Don’t be. If I had anything left it might have earned another flood. I loved it.” She tipped her head up to meet his eyes. Her other hand slid to his forearm to offer a comforting touch against his own shivering muscles, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he smiled.

“The flogging- it didn’t… you’re alright?” She had left it up to him if he would use that toy at all. Yes, it was a soft compromise for her, but Elain knew what happened to Lucien Under the Mountain- how Tamlin had brutally whipped him in front of everyone on Amarantha’s orders. His back was rippled with the scars.

Lucien considered it, “I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t scared at first, but… I’m alright. It was different enough. If it was a sturdier fabric that snapped more then maybe, but… I’m alright.” He squeezed her gently.

Elain’s eyes closed again. She wouldn’t fall asleep- even as the echo pulled back it didn’t leave them enough for  _that_ \- but her body and mind were frayed. “I liked the pants,” she said, the words helping to ground her even through the pain in her throat.

Lucien didn’t miss the extra little swallow, and he took his hand from beneath hers to lift her glass of water from the side of the tub. He held it to Elain’s lips and she parted them to drink, “You enjoyed that? I almost lost control at that little massage you gave me.”

She pushed his wrist when she was sated and he took the cup away. Elain smiled, “I know. I know all the tricks that work on you.”

“Next time the echo hits, I’m only up for light spooning,” Lucien splashed some water on his face. “After that- anything you want as long as I don’t have to move.” He would have a boost of energy with each wave of the echo, but he already knew he would be all but paralyzed the next morning when it vanished for the year.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you. I’m going to break you last thing before the echo fades. That’s my revenge.”

Lucien snorted and adjusted Elain against his chest so that he could rub her hips. It could easily turn into an intimate position, but even if he had the energy Elain’s full-body flinch would have been enough to cool him, “Next time either we use the spreader less or don’t open it as wide.”

“It was the second five minutes,” she groaned as his fingers warmed and Lucien sent flickers of heat into her aching muscles, calming them. Under his guidance the pain was easing back. “I loved it- I’ve never come so hard and I’ll make you do that again as soon as we’re recovered enough for it, but it took its toll. Maybe we should have switched to soft restraints.”

Lucien buried his face in Elain’s neck, “It wasn’t exactly five minutes the second time.”

“How long?” he felt a hint of danger in her voice.

“Ten? Give or take?” He worked on a particularly vicious knot in Elain’s hip, offering comfort in a silent plea for forgiveness.

“Give or take  _what_?”

Lucien winced, “Two minutes?”

She growled, but no blow landed, “I’m going to make you  _suffer_ , you ass.”

“Just don’t make my ass suffer.” He kissed her cheek, “That’s  _your_  kink, darling.”

“Remember what happened on Solstice Eve? I can- and will- keep you on the edge for hours.”

It was the worst (and best) night of his life.

As their heartbeats slowed, Lucien used his body as a heat source to warm the bathwater and bring Elain’s temperature back up. She’d been a clammy, shivering wreck when they finished, and he didn’t want her to catch a cold.

“What did you think about the last thing I did with the flogger?” Lucien finished his work on the knot and moved his focus to her lower back, which was also a knotted mess. His body was as good as a hot towel, but Elain found the will to slide forward far enough for his hands to set to work.

“When you told me to hold it for you?” He didn’t answer, but rather kissed her shoulder in response. “That was one of the hottest parts.” Her mind had been all but gone then, but Elain was present enough to appreciate it.

“I picked that version  _just_  because the card said it was approved for insertion.” He smiled.

“Be honest- you stalked the lace shop until Anwynn was purple before you were willing to enter.”

“True,” he chuckled. “They were pink for a solid week, I was beginning to get a bit scared. They just look so  _innocent_  when they’re female, it made me feel seedy even thinking about them filling out the invoice. I wouldn’t have been able to ask any questions.”

Elain laughed, “When I bought my first plug they were male and looked too much like-“

“Cassian!” Both said it together.

“Exactly!” Elain giggled a bit too hard and set off a coughing fit. Lucien returned her water glass to her.

After that they kept the talking to a minimum- just enough to help ease both back into their proper dynamic, but not so much as to tax Elain’s voice. After the echo passed, Lucien knew he would draw on his life force itself to pay Madja a visit and pick up something to help Elain’s throat. The position he’d taken her mouth in on the bed was quite a bit rougher than the standard- it probably did as much damage as her screams.

“I’m running out of things in easy reach,” Lucien said at last. His hands were over Elain’s breasts and he was directing gentle heat into the delicate inner workings ravaged by the clamps. Her fae abilities would ensure that even if they used the clamps every day she would face no distortion, but he flattened her still-aching nipples with his palms all the same, giving them a rest.

Elain stretched against him. Her ankles were sore, and her hips didn’t feel right still. Besides that, most of her muscles were too weak to move much. Even as she straightened her arms her entire abdomen quaked hard enough to ripple the bathwater.

“I’m alright,” she rested her head on his shoulder. “How about you?”

“I was the one dealing all of that, remember? You’re more important.”

Elain reached up to flick his nose, “The pamphlet said we  _both_  get care afterwards. You went through as much as I did. And even if I came harder, you came more. Your body has to hurt. I don’t have much strength in my hands still, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

He didn’t respond and her arm rose again, poised to flick his eye (not that was looking where she aimed).

“Fine, mercy!” He laughed and swatted her hand aside, “My lower back is killing me.”

“Up and over.” Elain managed to push herself aside and land on the bench. Lucien settled in front of her and tipped forward to rest his head on the faucet.

Elain poked and prodded at his back for a moment before twisting one of Lucien’s hands behind him, “Heat.” He obliged, sending his magic back into his own aching muscles.

Her fingers were boney and merciless, but she dug deeper than he could and had a knack for working aches out from the root. They often gave each other massages after a long day, so Lucien waited patiently and endured the agony of her tiny fingers until Elain planted her palm in the middle of his back and said “Straight.”

Her body shuddered again at the energy it took to brace against Lucien’s stretch. She felt a series of pops beneath her palm- but not enough. Elain gave a hard shove and felt something shift. All Lucien had to do was roll his hips for the final bone to crack into place. He groaned as he tipped forward and landed face-first in the water, where he rested a moment before surfacing.

“All better?”

“All better.” Lucien turned and kissed his wife.

He felt a ripple along their bond at the simple gesture- the yawning of a great beast. Elain smiled, and something glittered back to life in her eyes, “Ready for some light spooning?”

“If I have to be,” he sighed.

Elain forced her legs beneath her and stood. Lucien’s massage had done wonders to help her muscles recover, but she was still too weak to move much before the echo hit again, “Help me walk?”

Lucien groaned as he stood and discovered that his thighs hurt, “Only if you’ll help me.”

Together the pair ambled out of the tub and back to their bed.

“Next echo we  _finish_  with domination,” Elain moaned as she fell into the mattress.

“Deal.”


	2. Elriel Edition

##  **One Year in Heaven (Elriel Edition)**

“Can I help you with something, sir?” a pleasantly soft voice asked.

Azriel wished it was the first time they’d voiced that particular question, he would feel less awkward.

“I know I’m taking too long to decide,” he blushed deeply.

“If I may?”

He started, then nodded to the shop owner.

Embarrassed as he may be, Azriel supposed Anwynn was the only fae in Velaris he could turn to for help. They were utterly androgynous in form and voice, and changed their demeanor and dress between genders at will. A simple nail on the door frame was marked with a ribbon daily based on how Anwynn wished to be perceived. Blue for male, pink for female, and purple if neither felt right.

Azriel spent a week ‘casually’ strolling by the storefront, waiting for a purple day. He didn’t have the courage to enter the store if Anwynn was feeling pink or blue. They could be so innocently beautiful as a female that Azriel knew he could never buy what he needed. Of course, as a male Anwynn was roguishly handsome, but shopping intimately for his wife with a male by his side felt too much like shopping with Cassian.

What Azriel didn’t realize was that Anwynn had noticed his passing, and so chose a purple ribbon for today to see if that would set the nervous customer at ease enough to enter the shop.

“What is the occasion?” Anwynn rested an arm on the edge of a shelf that displayed various padded restraints for the bedroom. Two small braids on either side of their face kept the hair from their eyes, and in each was wound a purple ribbon, in case Azriel missed the one on the door.

Their face was bright, open, and most importantly- judgement free.

“My first anniversary.”

“Husband? Wife? Mate?” Anwynn knew already of course, but they judged Azriel as the sort of male who appreciated anonymity (even though everyone in Velaris knew him well).

“Wife.”

“So then, you’re looking to do something special, perhaps something your partner wants that you have been resistant to?”  Anwynn looked Azriel over carefully, assessing, “Domination or pegging?”

His face turned scarlet, “D-domination.”

“That scares you? To be dominated? Or will your partner be the submissive?”

Azriel nodded, but words were beyond him. He held up two fingers to indicate the second choice.

“Why does that worry you?” Anwynn’s voice was soft. They made many of the silk restraints Elain and Azriel played with, little more than decorative swaths of lace. It wasn’t an unnatural progression to the leathers he stood before now.

Fortunately, Anwynn had run the Velaris shop for centuries, giving them more than enough experience with shy males like Azriel. They knew not to push him too hard for an answer. Fae tended to be shy their first time purchasing intimate apparel or toys for fear of judgement. It was Anwynn’s job to put them at ease. Azriel never named Elain, so Anwynn would not, nor would they bring up his previous purchases. In most cases they wouldn’t have even approached Azriel unless he indicated he wished to be approached, but after the first forty-five minutes they’d made an exception to the rule.

“It- in my line of work I’m required to be dominant and commanding but-” Azriel fidgeted and glanced to the nearby accessories, “I can’t hurt my wife…. And I’m not sure I won’t become the worst version of myself if I do.”

He’d broken countless enemies for Rhys. It was automatic now- the moment he had them cornered he began to flay their minds and burn out their very souls. What if- what if that same brutal, silent void swallowed him? What if he genuinely broke her? Azriel knew he would never forgive himself.

Anwynn smiled brightly, “So, you’re worried about the wellbeing of the female you love?” when Azriel nodded they looked to the toys, “None of these are for harming or trapping, not if they are used responsibly.” They followed Azriel’s gaze to a set of nipple clamps that attached to a leather collar via silver chains, “Hold out your hand.”

Anxious, Azriel did as he was told while Anwynn lifted the contraption from its stand. They took one of the clamps and pinched it open to show Azriel the tiny leather pads rather than the sharp metal teeth he was expecting. “You put these on,” they pinched the clamp to sensitive skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Azriel barely felt it. “Then spin this until your partner tells you to stop.” Anwynn indicated a small, ridged knob that stuck out from the side. They only turned it once, until Azriel felt a building pressure, then tugged. It didn’t budge, “You can raise the chains as well,” they indicated small clasps at the top of the collar and lifted a false edge of leather to show another several inches of chain hidden within.

“Depending on what your partner’s needs are, this can be more aesthetic than functional. Everything here looks more intimidating than it is, I assure you. If you are worried about taking on a new role in your play, I would recommend putting a blindfold on your wife until you feel more comfortable. It is far easier to change your tone than your demeanor.” Anwynn returned the mechanism to its display stand.

A weight eased in Azriel’s chest at the suggestion of a blindfold and he felt a thrill of bravado, “What about-“ he nodded to a series of cuffs dangling along a nearby wall.

“Those are fairly self-explanatory, but let me show you a secret,” Anwynn led him to a particularly vicious set of manacles. Again, Azriel held out an arm for the demonstration.

“This is our least friendly-looking model. Even the most basic cuff I sell has this feature thought-“ they took one of Azriel’s fingers and showed him a ridge on the inside of the top rim, one easily within reach without having to involve his other hand. Anwynn pressed Azriel’s finger to the ridge and the cuff opened along a second seam opposite the main lock. “No matter the play, every accessory has an emergency release.”

Azriel breathed a long sigh, more than a little relieved. Daunting as the manacles were, knowing Elain could unlock them was more comforting than he could say. If he lost control she could get free and at least have a shot at escape.

Anwynn patiently walked him through more toys and clothing, answering every question Azriel had and a few he wouldn’t have thought to ask. From the main body of the lace shop they sold nothing more than lingerie, but the section Azriel browsed was relatively secluded from casual shoppers. He hated taking Anwynn away from their wares, but they kept an ear out for the door and gave Azriel as much assistance as he required.

“Would you like some privacy to make your selection?” Anwynn asked once he fell silent.

“Yes, please.”

They reached up onto the edge of a shelf containing various harnesses and pulled down a slip of paper with a sketch of the product. Each piece of the design was labeled with one or more numbers, “Everything here has one of these beneath it. The numbers correspond to aisles in the main store. Numbers in black indicate that any fabric in that aisle may be substituted at no additional cost. Numbers in gray with have an extra charge applied- those are rare or expensive materials. Just leave the card blank if you prefer the colors of the floor model, or make notes as needed.” Anwynn conjured a pen and handed it to Azriel before returning the paper and heading up to their counter.

Suddenly, Azriel’s task was all the more daunting. Would Elain want the base, brutal look of black leather? Should he get her something in white with little flowers? Should  _he_  be the one to decide and give her a design he preferred? She wanted him to play dominant, but did that apply to picking out the clothing as well?

For more than an hour Anwynn waited as Azriel came in and out of the private section with different cards. He changed his mind constantly on both design and material. They took afternoon tea at the counter as always, and when Azriel emerged to check fabrics  _again_ , Anwynn offered him a cup which he gratefully accepted.

Two and a half hours after Azriel first entered the store, he approached the counter with a stack of papers in hand.

“May I offer a suggestion?” Anwynn said idly as they reorganized the forms and began transcribing them into a sale ledger.

“Of course, you’ve been very helpful.” Azriel’s shyness was muted at last.

“Start thinking towards aftercare now. Don’t wait until the special day. Perhaps speak with your wife. Play like this is taxing on both parties. You will need time to find yourselves again, and your proper dynamic.” They pulled a small pamphlet from behind the counter and handed it to him. “Read this. Bruises are only fun when given proper attention.”

Azriel’s face turned beat red. Had he chosen the wrong things? Was his order too intense? Why did Anwynn feel the need to advise him?

 _Cauldron_ , we haven’t even started anything and I’m already going too far.

“Anyone who buys Level 2 restraints or higher gets the warning with their first purchase. It is part of a sexual health awareness program the Governors put in place a millennia ago, don’t worry. Your purchases are actually fairly commonplace in beginning domination. Only one Level 3 accessory. Level 4 comes with first-aid advisories and needle cleaning solution.”

“I won’t be going near Level 4.” Azriel had seen a section marked “S&M Piercing” and made a point to stay clear. It sounded too much like work.  If Elain wanted to be pierced anywhere intimate, he would take her to a professional, not make it part of their bedroom play.

Azriel accepted the pamphlet from Anwynn and read it carefully as they filled out the order slips and itemized a receipt. It would take two days to make Elain’s gifts, which put the pick-up a full week before their anniversary.

“As long as I have it the day before, there’s no rush.”

“In that case, you can choose any set as a gift with purchase.” Anwynn waved a hand to both male and female lingerie samples.

Something about having the stress of his order in someone else’s’ hands made Azriel giddy. He smiled, “Surprise me. I know Elain loves your work.” He paused, then pulled a few pieces of gold from one pocket. The order would be paid for via a slip of transaction that Anwynn would take to the bank for the agreed sum. Azriel set his coins on the counter, adding their value to what was already on the card, “Surprise both of us. If she has something special to wear, I should too.”

Anwynn smiled, “I have both of your measurements and preferences on file. You won’t be disappointed.”

Azriel only prayed that whatever Anwynn made him, it wouldn’t be lace.

**—-**

* * *

 

**—-**

Anwynn’s door was marked with a pink ribbon when Azriel returned to retrieve his orders.

Her braid was lacking its usual ribbon, but the second reminder lay this time in her gown- a layered dress of forest green and pale pink. A crown of flowers sat atop her head, and Azriel smiled, “Is it a special day?”

“A happy one,” she returned his grin. “Yesterday your brother-in-law granted my request to attend a Prythian-wide trade show. It’s hosted by the Guild in Spring this year. It will be very exclusive- a requirement for attendance is written permission of a High Lord! This will be the first time I’ve ever stepped foot outside of Velaris- I was so excited when I applied that I stared work on three new wardrobes just for the occasion! My husband is wearing the male version of this today.” She twirled, setting the pink gauze fluttering.

“Congratulations!” Azriel shook her hand. “You should have mentioned it when I was in last week, I could have told you Rhys had me make security arrangements for a Velaris delegation.”

Anwynn smiled, “I would still have worried over it until I had the official permission form, but thank you! The letter of approval did come with a warning about Spring and how they may treat Night residents. Is it as bad as it sounds there?”

Azriel winced and sighed, “Unfortunately it is patience you will need more than anything- patience and control. Their High Lord has told countless lies about both our High Lord and Lady. The War showed them who Rhysand is, but the people of Spring are stubborn and slow to change. Seek out Lord Dillion of Winter and Lady Sadb of Dawn. They are the heads of clothier and tailoring guilds, so I am sure they will be in attendance. Their people are helping keep an eye on the Velaris delegation- just to make sure you all have at least some friends in the room. Tell them you are outfitter to my wife and I. Before you know it, they will have introduced you to every craftsperson in Prythian.”

She laughed brightly, “I will, thank you very much. May I ask one other question?” the light faded in their eyes slightly and he nodded. “You’ve had dealings outside of this city. Fae like me… in your honest opinion- will it be alright?”

He knew what she was asking and considered the question carefully, “In Autumn, birth gender is rigorously enforced. Spring has no such laws, but there is a similar mindset. Those two Courts are the most rigid though. More fae will be on your side than against you. Dillion and Sadb will make sure you are not harassed, you have my word. Dillion’s son was misassigned at birth and he has been petitioning Prythian-wide to pressure Autumn into fixing  their backwards ways for centuries. Spring will hold their tongues, but if Autumn gives you any trouble just tell them that the Chief Spymaster of Night has no problem adding to his list of names.”

Relief lit her face and soon that smile returned again, “Again, thank you Lord Azriel. The shop will be closed while I am away, but once I return your next order- no matter how large it may be- is on the house.”

Lord Azriel. It was a title he’d inherited when he married Elain. As the brother-in-law of the High Lord he was closer- socially- than he had ever been as his friend in the eyes of Prythian. Azriel wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it (though, he held it over Cassian at every opportunity).  “Thank you Anwynn, and I hope you and your husband have a wonderful trip to Spring.” ****

She smiled again and jumped, excited once more, “I’ll go grab your parcels. Is the standard gift wrap alright?”

“Absolutely. I want Elain to know where it came from as soon as she sees it.”

Anwynn opened a large cabinet behind the counter- orders to be picked up that day. Most parcels were wrapped in customary silver paper with a navy ribbon. The top half, however, held numerous parcels in pale pink with red or white ribbons tied at the top in the shape of a rose, “There are a lot of anniversaries this week. Spring has always been a popular time for weddings.”

From the middle shelf she began pulling out Azriel’s parcels (each marked with a piece of red-gold yarn tucked into the ribbon). As Anwynn set the packages on the counter she removed the yarn and tossed it into a container behind the counter. There were ten packages, most mercifully small. Azriel knew which one was his set of new undergarments- the rose on top was cobalt blue.  As Anwynn pulled parcels from the stack, she blew on the crushed ribbon-roses. A light spell on them puffed each back to its full glory.

“You may open them if you want to inspect your order, the wrapping is simple,” she said, though she knew he would never open them in front of her. Perhaps if she were male or neutral, but when she chose to appear female even Elain agreed they looked similar

“I don’t think you could mess up an order even if you tried,” Azriel said. Indeed, the ‘Days Since Last Return’ counter on the wall had been changed to ‘Decades’ long before even Amarantha’s reign of terror.

“My quality control expert is the best in the business. It pays to have a finance manager as a mate. He inspects every last order- and even does the books for free.”

Anwynn smiled, “It sounds like a perfect arrangement.”

“It is,” Anwynn re-stacked the parcels and lid them to Azriel, “Go to your mate and have a very happy anniversary.”

“Thank you, and have fun at the trade show. Show those fools that Velaris is unmatched in lingerie design.”

“I will,” Anwynn winked. “And while I’m at it, I’ll teach those fae a thing or two about useless genders.”

“Dillion and Sadb,” Azriel reminded her as he lifted his order. “If you want to start a revolution, they’ll be your fiercest allies in the room.”

Anwynn came out to hold the door for him, “I’ll seek them out as soon as we arrive.”

Azriel walked out into the streets of Velaris. He tried not to show it as his arms groaned under the weight of everything- especially the three foot long parcel on the bottom. Unfortunately it was a relatively warm Spring afternoon. Elain would call it perfect gardening weather, but beneath thirty pounds of metal, leather, and cloth it was a long and increasingly unpleasant walk back to their home. Still, it felt good to take in the sun, so he refused to winnow.

Elain’s adaptation to being fae was an ongoing process, and the manner in which she turned had left her traumatized. She and Azriel were still awkwardly flirting and denying their feelings for one another when she abruptly moved out of the Townhouse and into a distant home. She said it was to try and find a place for herself in the fae world, a place to focus her energies on while she sorted through her anger and despair.

To that end, she had moved into a little home overlooking the wharf on the south end of Velaris. The neighborhood was fading, with many homes either left in shambles after Hybern’s attack and residents steadily abandoning what remained. At first they’d all worried that Elain’s isolation would not help her so much as send her into a rapid decline.

Then Rhysand saw a charge to the accounts Feyre had set up for Elain and Nesta to share. It was a large sum to be paid to the builder’s guild. Azriel took a peak at the faded, mossy building the next morning to find a whole team at work knocking out the remains of old windows and cutting through stone to add a half dozen more. Over several months Elain had the home completely gutted, then redesigned from the ground up.

As word spread that the High Lady’s sister was setting down roots, the neighborhood bounced back with a vengeance. She helped with as much of the construction as she could, but on the days where Elain wasn’t needed, she would sit on the porch and watch all of those fae inspired by her presence to beautify old storefronts and renovate anything Hybern had destroyed.

She watched those around her grow, and light return to a darkened corner of the city.  

Azriel began to court Elain during that time, and it was after their first night together that he’d learned the truth of why she chose to leave the Townhouse: she was plagued by nightmares of Hybern’s attack on her mortal home, of being cast into the Cauldron to die and be remade, and of that moment when she ran Truthteller through the King’s throat.

Taking a home as wrecked and ravaged as she felt and turning it into something beautiful was Elain’s way of trying to heal herself as well.

After their wedding, Azriel moved into the home with her and swore he would do all it took to make it as bright and lovely as Elain herself was. She’d offered to change the coloring, block out certain windows- anything he requested to make it less  _her_  home and more  _theirs_. He informed her with a kiss that no such thing was necessary.

There was space for all they wanted or needed (including a kitchen larger than Rhysand’s bedroom), but no inch went unused. True, if they ever decided to expand their family they would be forced to move, but for the young couple it was perfect.

A low hedge of blue hydrangea lined the inside of a whitewashed stone fence. Behind it, green lawn stretched towards a pale oak door flanked with vibrant red rose bushes. To the side of the yard nearest the street- in case anyone wanted to chat- was a vegetable and herb garden was already showing the season’s first sprouts.

The house itself was two stories of white stone with large windows on all sides. Upstairs was Elain and Azriel’s bedroom, bathroom, and two spacious closets. Downstairs held the kitchen, formal dining room, sitting room, and Elain’s office where she worked on landscaping designs for some of the palaces of Night. In addition to that were sketches for Feyre and Rhysand’s new estate, Nesta and Cassian’s summer home in Illyria, and even one of Helion’s pleasure-gardens in Day, commissioned the  _moment_  he laid eyes on the garden at the House of Wind.

Azriel was just happy Rhys had no idea what all he and Elain did in that garden while they were supposed to be working.

Around the back of the house was a small storage shed with a staircase inside leading down to a home office for Azriel. Beside it was a wood-and-glass plant nursery for Elain to prepare seedlings for transplantation. Azriel always wondered if the yard was larger than their house- not that he would complain. He’d married a gardener- he was just thankful he had no allergy to pollen.

Azriel expected Elain to be in the garden when he got home (or, better yet, out). However, when he opened the front door it wasn’t silence that greeted him, but the sound of a heavy roasting pan shifting on the stove.

He dashed upstairs quickly and dumped the packages on his and Elain’s bed. His closet was the only place she never ventured, so he cleared a spot on the floor at the back and ferried the boxes in one-by-one.

“Welcome home!” Elain called up the stairs, “Illyrian for dinner alright?”

“Absolutely!” Azriel called down. He knew he should have an excuse for running upstairs and not going to greet Elain, but he couldn’t think of any that didn’t involve bathroom emergencies.

“The females were here earlier, they dropped off anniversary cards before leaving on their trip.”

Azriel changed into a lighter shirt quickly, “That was nice of them!”

Feyre, Nesta, Mor, Amren, Nuala, and Cerridwen were somewhere on the continent exploring and shopping under a heavy human glamour. They’d offered to postpone their trip until Elain could join, but she’d waved them off with an excuse about being far too busy.

Only her husband knew the truth.

It was still too soon for Elain to wear a mortal glamour and walk among humans once more. Her adjustment to being fae was a slow one, and the trauma surrounding her change still brought her the occasional violent nightmare (from which Azriel had a collection of scars). Taking on a human form and presenting herself as one again was likely to trigger a relapse and undo all of the progress she’d made in the past year.

Elain voiced that fear to her mind-physician in Dawn, and the female agreed.

Those nightmares… they were the other reason Azriel was so anxious about Elain’s request for more aggressive bedroom play. When he met with the physician she seemed unconcerned, but he wasn’t entirely convinced now was the proper time. Every other week he joined Elain on the last half of her session, but monthly he had a private hour to ask advice on how to aid her recovery, voice his own concerns, or process his own injuries and fears after Elain attacked during her nightmares.

The physician’s assessment was that though Elain was still too fragile to handle a visit to the human lands, her sexual desires were not concerning so long as they proceeded safely.

Azriel finished buttoning his shirt and took a step towards the door. He cursed and kicked off his boots, “I’m sorry,” he called as he hurried down the stairs, “I forgot again.”

“That’s alright, the rule is more for me than you.” Elain was back in the kitchen as he opened a cabinet by the door and put his shoes inside. Their cream carpeting suffered no damage from Azriel’s hurried dash upstairs, but Elain’s shoes were often caked in dirt or dyed wood-mulch.

“I’m also sorry for-” he winnowed into the kitchen, right behind Elain. She smiled as Azriel’s arms wrapped around her tightly and he pressed a kiss to her cheek, “-not greeting my beautiful and wondrous wife properly.”

Elain set down the bowl of noodle-thin pastry she was mixing butter and sugar into and spun around in Azriel’s arms to kiss him, “Don’t worry, you’ll make it up to me by doing the dishes.”

“My favorite chore,” he kissed her nose and let her return to the task at hand. Elain and Azriel took turns cooking dinner, but he insisted on doing the dishes. His wife spent her days elbow-deep in either dirt or dough, he was happy to don bright purple washing gloves and give her a few additional minutes of rest.

Besides, it felt good to do something that didn’t require translating code or torturing enemies.

As he pulled his gloves on and set his sights to the small heap of frying pans, bowls, and measuring dishes by the sink, he breathed in deeply the aroma of whatever it was she was cooking in a covered roasting pan on the stove. It was familiar, but Azriel couldn’t quite place the name of the dish.

Garlic, cinnamon, and the heady aroma of a dozen other spices filled the kitchen. The dish would be tangy, but not overly hot (no surprise- Elain favored softer tastes). The scent was deep and rich, sweet and sharp, and as he started to wash, Azriel’s nose sorted the scents into two distinct projects.

“Kanafe?” He guessed as his nose detected the sweet, soft scent of roses that was distinct from what grew along the front of their house.

“Correct.” Elain pulled a pan out of the oven- the base layer of the dish. Before she added the filling and another layer of birds-nest pastry, she broke off a small bite and fed it to him. Azriel choked a bit as a lump of butter and sugar fell off of Elain’s fingers and into his mouth as well, “Oh no! I’m sorry, here-“ she took a quick drink from her glass of water and held it up to Azriel’s mouth. She didn’t relent until he had finished off the cup and thoroughly washed the raw ingredients out of his mouth.

“Thanks,” he coughed again to clear his throat.

“Next time I’ll use a fork.” Elain kissed his cheek in apology before returning to the dish to finish adding the various layers, “Dinner is chicken kabsa with carrots, potatoes, and mushroom.”

“And raisins?”

“ _Extra_  raisins. Just for you.”

Azriel gave an appreciative groan. Cassian hoarded his Illyrian recipes, but lately Elain had convinced him to divulge a few just for her to try. Most dishes were impossible in Velaris - Illyrian spices were hard to come by. Cassian gave Elain an allowance of only one spice refill per month, so she had to choose her dishes carefully. Azriel never really learned to cook Illyrian food. He was raised on gruel both in the camp and among the trainees. After completing the Rite he was forced into the service of Rhysand’s father far from any Illyrian lands.

Elain’s food held a magic all its own. Even Cassian feared her learning too many Illyrian recipes, in case he was replaced as the go-to chef in the Inner Circle.

Azriel set the pan he was washing into the drying board and picked up a small saucepan. He caught a strong whiff of rose and turned quickly before the pan went under the faucet. A clear syrup filled the bottom.

“Hey Elain?”

“Yeah?” She was still smiling up at her husband.

“I think you forgot something,” he handed the pan over to her.

Elain’s eyes went wide and she cursed- which never failed to make Azriel laugh, “Shit, yes. Thank you! Ugh, I was wondering where that pan went.” She walked off holding it, equally angry at the pan and herself. The contents were meant to be poured over the kanafa once it was finished. The dish had to be fresh from the oven and the syrup cool when they met. If Azriel had accidentally washed out the contents the recipe would be ruined (but still tasty).

He made a show of inspecting every dish that followed carefully, at least until Elain grabbed a wet towel and snapped it into his rear.

“Abuse!” he yelped at the sting.

“I’ll kiss it better tomorrow,” she snorted and hung the dishtowel back up to dry.

Azriel purred at his wife and stomped viciously on the desire to drag her upstairs and show her all the toys he’d bought for her right that instant, dinner be damned. He loved Elain so desperately it felt as though his heart would burst each time she smiled, and every morning he woke with her in his arms was like a dream.

When they first started courting he had been territorial and endlessly jealous of Lucien Vanserra. He was Elain’s  _mate-_  bonded to her in a way that Azriel never would be. No matter how many centuries they were together, he’d always known that it would take just a moment to lose her forever. Marriages crumbled in the face of a mating bond. He couldn’t help but feel that he was a mistake fate could set right between one heartbeat and the next.

His insecurity nearly destroyed the budding romance between the pair entirely. After a Solstice gathering where Azriel had- with increasing frustration- kept Elain on the opposite end of the room from Lucien, they both snapped.

That fight remained the worst they’d ever had. But… Elain was right in the end. She chose  _him_. Just because the Cauldron picked Lucien didn’t mean she did not love Azriel heart and soul. He may not have been fate’s pick, but neither Elain nor Lucien was interested in forcing a relationship that didn’t exist. Azriel just had to trust that Elain’s feelings were true and believe her when she said that he- not Lucien- was the only male who would ever hold her heart.

After their fight Azriel had left Velaris for a few days, returning with armfuls of flowers and a vow to never let petty jealousy undermine them again. Though a part of him still feared Lucien it was nothing compared to the part that did, in fact, trust and believe in Elain.

No mating bond could change what they knew in their hearts to be true.

Elain was Azriel’s miracle, and he had no words that could ever come close expressing the love in his heart (not that he gave up trying). He showered her with gifts of flowers and seeds for her gardens, offered her his body for any kind of hard labor she required, and in action as well as deed built for her a home warmer and happier than either of them had ever known.

Before his mind properly registered that the dishes were done, Azriel had stripped off his gloves and gone to Elain. She was lifting the lid of the pot on the stove, and Azriel nuzzled the long curve of her neck, “Thank you for sharing this life with me.”

Elain smiled and leaned her head back onto Azriel’s chest, “I’m just sorry it took me so long to find you.”

“Well, you did have to be born first. And if I’m honest, I’m glad we only met when you were an adult. It would have been kind of disturbing if we met when you were a child.” She laughed as he traced his lips across her throat, delivering soft nibbles between kisses, “We don’t have to wait for our anniversary.”

“We do have to wait,” Elain pushed her husband back lightly, “dinner’s ready.”

Azriel grumbled as he released her and went about gathering plates, forks, and knives, “Do you need help flipping the dish out?”

“I think I’m alright,” Elain’s tongue poked out the side of her mouth as she readied for the quick flip. She pressed the plate to the pan with her thumbs and turned the entire thing over. The awkward shift in weight nearly made her drop everything, but she just let the pan force the plate into the stovetop.

Azriel’s eyes widened as she lifted the pan away to reveal a perfect kabsa: chicken thighs with the skin neatly browned and seasoned, pan-fried vegetables, and beneath it all a brown, fluffy rice. Slivers of garlic and boiled raisins (twice as much as the recipe called for) covered the food, and as their aroma was unleashed in full Azriel’s stomach growled.

Elain spooned healthy portions of kabsa onto the two plates, and laughed as the chicken thighs completely fell apart, “I guess it’s tender.” She set the plates down on the far side of their countertop island, where the two ate most days on barstools. They had a dining room, but it felt odd sitting at a table made for eight when it was just the two of them.

Azriel only breathed in the scent while he waited for the chef to take her first bite. He’d already picked out garlic and cinnamon, but now his nose managed to spot allspice, saffron, cardamom, cumin, and coriander blending and mixing. It wouldn’t be a particularly spicy dish, but it would be warm. The kind one would eat to push back at winter chill.

“Perfect,” Elain whispered once she’d taken her bite. Azriel took that as his cue to tuck in. He started with a spoonful of rice. As predicted, it was warm rather than spicy, and the sweetness of raisin added a soft burst of flavor that filled every taste bud from front to back. A perfect balance.

He pretended he knew the dish well as he complemented the coloring and blend of spices, but truth be told it wasn’t one Azriel was familiar with. To Cassian it was probably something basic and simple- he was easing Elain into Illyrian cooking slowly. When the Inner Circle ate, however, it was usually a competition of spice and endurance. Over five hundred years Azriel could probably count on one hand the number of times Cassian had prepared this particular dish.

He pulled at the chicken skin until a large section tore off, soft and flavorful from boiling in spices. Elain was neat and proper- she sliced hers so that each bite of chicken had a little bit of flavoring from the skin. Azriel… well, he went from starving in a cell to fighting other Illyrian children for food. He ate as much of the skin in one go as he could manage.

Pockets of flavor erupted on his tongue as he chewed. The spices had largely been strained from the broth before it all set to boil, but a few stubborn bits were stuck in and beneath the chicken’s skin. Tangy, spicy, and even a little sweet from the excess raisins Elain added- once more his tongue was blinded by flavor.

When Azriel finished skinning the chicken thigh he set in on the meat itself. It was juicy and tender, just as Elain had said. He could still taste the delicate mix of spices, but for the most part the natural flavor of the meat held command. For every bite of chicken he used his knife to slip a raisin from the rice and add it to his fork. Even the rest of the Inner Circle knew that if a recipe called for raisins, Azriel preferred the quantity doubled.

“I’m only half-finished with my chicken,” Elain said with a laugh as Azriel picked up the bones and sucked the last slivers of meat from them.

“This is incredible,” he managed some words before launching into the vegetables and rice. He’d seen carrots, mushroom, and potatoes, but there was also cauliflower finely shredded into the rice and even zucchini (an addition Elain made to Cassian’s recipe for her own tastes).

Azriel was vaguely aware of a sweet rose scent filling the kitchen as they ate, but once Elain finished her chicken she took Azriel’s free hand in hers and nothing else mattered. Her soft skin beneath his rough fingers woke that delicious ache in his heart again.

Nothing in all of Prythian could compare to sitting beside Elain Archeron in a home all their own, eating good food together, and just basking in one another’s presence.

“Dessert is in the oven,” Elain sighed as Azriel’s thumb traced the back of her hand.

“I know, I saw you put it in.”

“I’m reminding myself,” she cast a lidded gaze over to him and squirmed slightly on her seat, hoping to diffuse the growing ache between her legs, “otherwise I’d have your pants off already.”

His mouth went instantly dry, “How long do we need to wait after a meal to have sex?”

“Until tomorrow,” Elain said with a wicked smile. She was the one who wanted to have a sex-fast the week before their anniversary.

“So you’re just torturing me?” Azriel didn’t mention his own dashed plans for Elain once the food was cleared.

“Maybe one of us should sleep on the couch tonight,” Elain muttered. They were both very much in the throws of the season- spring seemed to be designed to wake lover’s passions. Though, in all fairness it wasn’t much different than how they’d been all winter.

Or the autumn before that.

Or the summer before that.

Maybe it wasn’t spring fever so much as the lust and love of a new union.

Azriel focused exclusively on his rice and forced himself to ignore any thoughts of scooping Elain up onto that counter and-

 _Cauldron damn it! Tonight’s going to be hell_. Azriel was already counting down the hours. Elain typically woke around seven in the morning. She would insist on breakfast and an exchange of gifts first and at that point it would be approximately fourteen hours longer than he wanted to wait to have her.

Once a sugary sweetness finally overrode the scent of kabsa, Elain got up to check the oven.

“Ready for dessert?” she looked to Azriel’s plate. Both of them had only a few bites of rice and vegetables left.

“Don’t say it like that,” he groaned.

“Like what? This is my normal tone.”

“I know, and it’s too tempting,” images of her with the new accessories hidden in his closet danced behind his eyes.

“Should I try to sound like Cassian?” Elain giggled. She made her voice as deep as she could, “You have to change yours too, pick a female.”

He obliged and put on a bratty falsetto Amren would  _slaughter_  him for, “Cauldron, you still just sound cute.”

She laughed again and pulled a round baking dish from the oven. The top was a picture-perfect golden brown. The noodle-esque strips of dough looked like fried hash browns, but their sweet, buttery scent was unmistakable (and unpleasant when accidentally ingested raw). There was rose intertwined with that scent, and the sweet depth of a soft cheese. Azriel grinned as she flipped the dish out- just as she had with dinner.

“Your favorite part-” she grabbed the pan of rescued syrup and carefully poured it onto the dish.

As soon as the syrup hit the pastry it began to sizzle and pop. The scent of roses and another layer of sweetness erupted in the room. The sizzling was a music of its own, and he subconsciously leaned back to avoid being hit with any splatters.

“I’m only using half,” Elain finished pouring and set the pot aside, “personally I think the rose flavor is too strong. Here-” she grabbed a dish of finely crushed pistachios and sprinkled them on top, then fetched a serving knife and fresh plates.

“Perfect,” Azriel’s eyes went wide as Elain cut a piece, then pulled it away. A curtain of molten cheese mixed with slivers of almond stretched nearly a foot from the dish to the plate. Azriel used a sliver of magic to sever the connecting strands as Elain set the piece down.

“You have the first bite. It’s too hot for me still,” she passed the plate to Azriel and began to cut her own.

Hot as the cheese was, Elain had no hope of tasting her creation until it had time to cool. Azriel had no such self-preservation instincts. She handed him the pan of syrup before he could even ask. Notorious for his sweet tooth, Azriel applied double what even Cassian considered excessive.

His grunt as he took the first bite made it difficult for Elain to focus again. She couldn’t help but note that he made a similar sound when her mouth was on his-

Elain went to the sink and splashed some cold water on her face.

“I amend what I said- this is better than perfect.” Azriel said at last as he swallowed his bite.

“Good!” She used her fork to pull out a small bite and began blowing on it, eager to eat before the relatively thin layer of syrup made the pastry soggy.

The rose was enough to make itself known, but not terribly overpowering. It was as if the scent of the blossoms that flanked their door had found a way to infuse their soft presence into the food. Elain had made the mistake of accepting a bite from Azriel once before- it was like chewing on the flower itself (if it were caramelized first). She needed the balance of the savory notes within the sweet cheese to hold everything together. Her husband practically needed to eat sugar directly from the cane.

“After dessert-dessert?” Azriel hopped up to heat their tea kettle, “What’s your poison?”

“Green tea,” Elain smiled as she finished her kanafa. She needed something to rinse away the rose flavor.

“This late?” The sun was barely setting, but Elain had a surprisingly low tolerance for caffeine, “Have some work to do?”

She nodded, “I want to stop by Day after my next appointment and drop off a first draft of plans for Helion to look over. I think I have the general layout close to where I want it.”

Azriel pulled a square mahogany tea chest from its place on the counter and opened it. The inside was divided into a dozen separate compartments with hinged glass lids. At the base of the chest was a drawer that opened to reveal reusable mesh bags. Azriel carefully measured out Elain’s green tea and his coffee into their respective pouches. Once his instincts told him the water was perfectly heated, he filled twin mugs and set their drinks to steep.

“Want to go for a walk by the wharf?” Azriel suggested. Sometimes when Elain had work to do a short outing helped clear her mind.

“Sure,” she smiled and carried their dishes to the sink. The kabsa she covered and put in the ice-box for future meals. Kanafa didn’t reheat well enough for her tastes, but she knew Azriel would sneak another piece before the evening was out, so she covered it and left it on the counter.

Once the tea and coffee were finished, Azriel scooped up their mugs and hooked his arm through Elain’s, “Ready to walk?”

“Yes,” she accepted hers and went to pull on sandals.

They emptied their mugs slowly as they wandered towards the sea. Shadows were gathering as the sun dipped low across the ocean, but their footsteps weren’t hurried. The northern end of Velaris’ docks was home to warehouses and seedy taverns, but the southern end was clean and well maintained (at least, it had been since Elain moved in). Other couples out for a stroll nodded to the pair. They were fae Azriel and Elain knew by sight alone as they walked in a large loop towards the sea wall, down to the edge of the docks where children swam close to shore, and back up along a row of rich estates.

When Elain finished her tea she curled into Azriel and tugged his arm over her shoulder. He half-held his wife as the fresh sea air eased the growing tension in his chest. He was excited for their anniversary, yes, but doubts still tugged at his mind when he thought of the gifts hidden in his closet. Half of him was excited, half was terrified.

Could he give Elain what she wanted? Would he have to endure a flicker of disappointment on her face when she realized he couldn’t go as far as she wanted? Would he be able to keep the monster at bay? The last time they’d discussed it- when she specifically requested domination for her birthday- she’d fought against herself to hide the regret at his refusal but it still managed to spark in her eyes. His heart flickered with shame at the memory.

What he was offering was a compromise, but what if Elain had to shove down that disappointment again?

“Hello Lady Elain, Lord Azriel,” a pretty fae younger even than Feyre bowed low as she crossed their path. She wore a simple gray dress, marking her as a temple acolyte.

“Good evening Nevanthi,” Elain smiled brightly. The acolyte was one of those who stopped to greet her as she worked the front vegetable garden and always had questions on how to improve the temple’s own, “How were your exams?”

“Wonderful!” Nevanthi bounced on her heels. Her long red braid swung behind her with the force of her excitement. “I passed! I am now a junior priestess, third order!”

“I’m so happy for you!” Elain squeezed Nevanthi’s hand.

“One hundred years of training, then I will have the full rites. The robing ceremony is tomorrow.”

Azriel smiled, “I’m sorry we’ll miss it!” he genuinely was. Nevanthi was a good, kind child- one he was willing to bet would be a renowned High Priestess one day. Prythian could always use an honest priestess or two.

“That’s right! It is your anniversary!” she beamed excitedly at Elain and Azriel, “May I say I blessing?”

“Of course,” Elain elbowed Azriel and each took one of Nevanthi’s hands.

The child bowed her head and recited a standard prayer- one he remembered from their wedding day. He felt a warmth spreading from her hands as the quiet temple magic sought out their rings to reaffirm the blessings upon them. Azriel just looked at Elain, exactly as he had when they stood before their friends and swore themselves to one another forever. He felt the blessing settle again into their rings, but its twin settled in his very soul. He was a cold, blood-soaked male, and yet where Elain’s light shone the darkness could never take hold again.

“The Cauldron blesses this union,” Nevanthi smiled as she released their hands.

_If only it had._

Azriel patted the female on the shoulder and she ran off with only a quick wave before she vanished down an alleyway. It was a nice touch before their anniversary- a reaffirming of the blessing from even so new a priestess- and Elain didn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

By the time they returned to the house though that faraway look had returned to Azriel’s eyes. She didn’t know what was bothering him, and he wasn’t ready to discuss it. The joy from Nevanthi’s prayer had flickered and blown out as they arrived back on their street.

Elain kissed Azriel soundly at the door, wrapped her arms around his chest, and just held him for a time. Only when Azriel kissed the top of her head and gave her a squeeze did she release him. He went to the kitchen to finish up the dishes and Elain slipped into her office. When Azriel fell into one of his quiet moods it was best to leave him to sort out his own mind. He would come to her when he was ready to share whatever burdened him.

Elain worked long into the night, until her eyes burned and she could no longer picture the garden she was trying to map out. She yawned and popped her neck, then blew out the lamp on her desk. In the sitting room, Azriel was sitting in his favorite armchair and staring at a closed book. Whatever thoughts were bothering him on their walk, he still hadn’t found an answer.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Elain asked. Azriel shifted automatically, giving her a lap to sit on, “We could celebrate early.”

His eyes met hers and he smiled slightly, “Why don’t you go ahead. I’m going to stay up a little longer.”

She lifted his chin and kissed her husband, “Whenever you want to tell me, I’ll be there for you. Even if you have to wake me up.”

“I’m not suicidal enough to ever wake you,” Azriel joked. He kissed Elain’s fingertips, then her jaw. “If you need me to-“

“Don’t worry,” Elain cut him off, “I’m alright.”

Azriel was returning Elain’s offer for sex with an offer of tongue or hand. Both of them had nights like that on occasion- nights when they couldn’t stir their bodies to desire and yet wished to grant the other pleasure. She was offering sex in spite of their break to try and coax some response. Whatever Azriel was grappling with was the same thing that had been eating at him with increasing frequency over the last month. So far Elain had given him space, but now-

“Don’t worry,” now it was Azriel who cut Elain off as she opened her mouth. “I promise we’ll talk about it. Soon.” He held up a pinky.

She sighed, but hooked his pinky all the same, sealing the bargain, “Goodnight, I love you.”

“I love you too,” he kissed her once more, “goodnight.”

Elain left Azriel alone in the sitting room, and not long after he heard the water running upstairs as she brushed her teeth. He wanted to tell her nothing was wrong, he was just nervous, but the words wouldn’t come.

 _What’s wrong with you,_  he asked himself.  _You were so excited to pick up all that stuff and now you’re acting weird again._

_-Because what if she doesn’t like it? What if she’s disappointed, just like on her birthday?_

_She wasn’t disappointed her_ whole _birthday,_  he reminded himself,  _just when I said I couldn’t do more intense play. It isn’t like the sex was bad that day. It was just- just when I turned her down… and again just now._

He sighed and got up, “I’ll be in my office,” Azriel called up to Elain. It was going to be a long night if he couldn’t get a handle on himself.

“I love you,” was her only reply. Simple as the words were, he knew she meant them with every fiber of her being.

Azriel’s heart thudded hard in his chest and once again he was physically struck by what he felt for Elain. What he once thought he would never be capable of feeling. He had been quietly in love with Mor for five hundred years, yes, but it paled in comparison to what he felt for Elain. Loving someone who loved you back- it was nothing short of divine.

Before heading to the door, Azriel slipped into Elain’s workroom and picked up her latest sketch of Helion’s garden. He slipped it into his previously discarded book and smuggled it out the back door and over to the stone shed that hid his office. Elain offered to have an addition to the house squeezed in, but while he only practiced the bloody arts of his job in the Hewn City, he was still loathe for her to come anywhere near the dark crypt of a Spymaster.

Down the staircase he went, until darkness swallowed him wholly and completely. His siphons sparked to life and Azriel lit a single candle that sat in a holder surrounded on three sides by mirrors. The light filled his small workroom, illuminating books, parchment, and reports in every code ever conceived. Azriel set the book on his desk.

If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well ready her anniversary present.

**—-**

* * *

 

**—-**

Sunlight and the sound of running water woke Azriel from his slumber.

He wasn’t even sure when he finally crawled into bed, exhausted. Nervous energy hummed in his veins now, and Azriel knew there was no falling back asleep.

Elain’s half of the bed was barely warm- a sign that she had been awake for a while already. Knowing her, she’d started the day with tea and jam-laden toast. Also knowing her- Azriel opened an eye and sure enough a metal tray was on her pillow with his own tea-and-jam breakfast. She’d even laid out his bottle of contraceptive brew.

“Thank you,” Azriel called, his voice rough with sleep. “I was going to make  _you_  breakfast.”

“Make me lunch,” she called from the bathroom, “or dinner- whenever we surface for air.”

“Deal.” He took a piece of toast covered in thick blackberry jam and sat up. Elain’s nightstand drawer was cracked, and Azriel chuckled as he took a bite, “Elain?”

“Yes?”

“Let me guess- the one I gave you for your birthday?”

“Of course,” she laughed. “Eat your breakfast, I can handle this on my own.”

“Don’t forget to start the hourglass this time, I hate seeing you in pain.”

“I forgot  _one time_ ,” she grumbled before going back to her preparation.

He chuckled and emptied the contraceptive bottle between bites. The jam helped clear its taste from his mouth. As Azriel turned to set the bottle on his nightstand, he froze.

There, in their finest crystal vase, was a bouquet of purple flowers. The long, rounded leaves had been cleared away to reveal thick green stalks dotted with dozens of tiny lavender blossoms. At their heart they were a deep violet, but as the four pedals of each bloom traced outwards, that violet brightened to something nearly white.

It was a weed. Something he’d seen the residents of Velaris kick as it sprouted up through paving stones. Something Elain would rip mercilessly out of any flowerbed it tried to invade. His chest tightened unbearably and tears pricked at his eyes. That weed grew all over the Illyrian plains and while Azriel never dared tell Elain, it was his favorite plant in all of creation.

A weed easily overlooked and trampled… and one that his mother smuggled into his cell.

She just wanted to give him  _something_  of the outside world while he was trapped in a too-small cage. Those flowers were miraculous to the small boy. For the first eleven years of his life they were they only plant he had ever seen, and the only splash of color he ever knew beyond the yellow-orange of flame or agonizing red of melted flesh.

“When I was weeding the garden last summer, I noticed that you wouldn’t even look at the purple sage. So, I did some research and it mostly grows on the Illyrian plains.” Elain said quietly from the door. Azriel didn’t know how long he’d been staring at the flowers, but she was already dressed in one of her more conservative lace nighties that hung off her slender shoulders and fell to her thighs.

He swallowed hard, “My mother used to bring them to me in my cell.”

The bed creaked as Elain came to sit beside him. She put a hand on his cheek and pulled him over until his head rested against her chest. Elain cradled it in her arms, smoothing Azriel’s hair back. “I would plant you an entire garden of those if you asked.”

“Maybe just a small corner?” He knew Elain regarded them as weeds, unworthy of a place among her flowers, but he also knew she wasn’t joking. She  _would_  fill the entire yard with them if it made him happy.

It was one of the many reasons he loved her.

“Deal.” She sealed it with a kiss.

“Thank you. Happy anniversary,” Azriel adjusted so that he was holding Elain tight.

“Happy anniversary.” She studied his eyes a moment, “Last night- are you alright?”

“I think so,” he answered honestly. “I’ll let you know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I want you to open your present,” he said. Azriel took her hand, cast one last glance to the flowers beside his pillow, and led Elain down into the sitting room. It looked much as it had the night before, except for a blue sheet on the coffee table covering what anyone with half a brain could see was a stack of thick books. Beneath the table (not that Elain could see) were the boxes from Anwynn’s shop. Elain sat as he pulled the stack of books from beneath the sheet, “These first.”

She accepted the stack and began leafing through them. There were four thick spiral-bound tomes-  _Flora, Fauna, Trees,_ and  _Elements_. Elain opened one of the books- it was filled with full color renderings of every flower known to fae- where to find them, growth and care instructions, and a dozen other classifications Azriel knew she would understand. A full botanical encyclopedia. The  _Elements_  book was a catalogue of grass types, paving stones, benches, fountains, mulch, and any other landscaping detail she could imagine- every one available in dozens of colors.

“This is amazing,” Elain breathed, wide-eyed. Azriel could already see her mile whirring with plans and ideas.

“That’s just part of the gift.” Next, he handed her a large sketchbook- more than double the size of her current book. “This part… I’m not sure if you’ll like it. If not, just remember how excited you were about the books.”

She frowned as she accepted the book. On the first page, Azriel had faithfully copied her plans for Helion’s palace gardens- including the details she’d only added the night before. There was a white stick resting on the page the size and thickness of her sketching pencil. Azriel pulled the sheet off the table towards her (so as to hide the boxes from Anwynn’s shop) revealing-

-nothing.

“Watch.” Azriel grinned nervously as he flipped the sheet over, revealing a large white linen square also covered in black lines. It was a scaled-up version of the sketch. He spread the cloth across both table and floor and took the sketch pad from Elain, “Pick a plant.”

She did as he asked, choosing a page of daisies in various hues. Azriel tapped the white stick to one of the images until it emitted a soft pulse of light. Next he touched it to the sketchbook and dragged it across a section of the page.

In the book, a thin line followed the pen- tiny miniature portraits of the plant. On the blanket the same design appeared slightly larger in detailed embroidery. Azriel flipped the stylus to the other side- where an eraser might be- and circled a section of her plans. The area he circled was swollen on the sheet until it filled the white square, giving her even more detail on the plants. Elain gasped and Azriel wiped a finger across the line of green, erasing everything he touched. Two sharp taps of the flat end shrunk the sheet-map once more.

“It will match whichever page of the sketchbook you have open, you just have to make sure to draw your scale marker in first so it knows how big things should be. You can use the broad side of the pointer to draw thicker swaths of plants- that’s especially useful for the grass and mulch.”

Elain was speechless. Azriel handed the pointed to her and she drew more flowers onto the notebook- which promptly filled in on the sheet. She could hang it in her office as a tapestry to actually  _see_  the garden she was designing far more clearly depicted than her clumsy hand could manage.

“Azriel, this is  _perfect_ ,” she breathed. Both deposited their books on the table so Elain could kiss her husband. She was smiling as their lips met, “Thank you. I can’t wait to look through everything! You just made my job infinitely easier.” She looked at the thick tomes of plants and features, “Or maybe harder!” So many possibilities, how could she ever choose?

He grinned broadly, “Really? You like it?”

“I love it.” She kissed him again.

His nerves returned in full force, “Well, I said you should remember the books if you hated the sheet… Now remember them both, just in case you don’t like your other presents.”

Suspicion lit her eyes, “Other presents? Would this have something to do with how you were last night?”

“Yes.” He kissed her once more and pulled himself from her side to whip the blue sheet away, revealing the pile of packages.

“What did you do?!” Elain gasped.

He didn’t answer until he’d lifted the parcels onto the top of the coffee table. Azriel knelt on the floor by her feet and took her hands in his, “I can’t give you exactly what you want… but I’m hoping we can work out a compromise.”

“What I want?” she frowned in confusion as Azriel picked up the smallest package and handed it to her. He had an idea of what might be inside each parcel and what order to present it.

Elain accepted a flat box nearly the length of her forearm. It hardly had any weight to it, and her confusion grew. She tugged at a petal of the ribbon-rose to release it, “You’ve been conspiring with Anwynn?”

“Yes.”

She cut through the tape at the ends of the paper with a nail and neatly slid a white gift box free. Elain cast one last suspicious look down to Azriel before opening it.

Inside was a blindfold of black satin overlaid with an opal lace- something Anwynn developed personally. The lace shimmered- at once a pale ivory yet flecked with every color imaginable. The blindfold bulged slightly over the eyes so that it would not rest directly upon them. It was something he’d found not with the restraints and toys, but with general accessories.

“It’s beautiful, but I don’t understand why it’s a compromise,” Elain traced the lace. “We play with blindfolds often enough.”

“But not with this.” He handed her a square box next, this one with a bit more weight. She quickly discarded paper and ribbon before opening the case.

Inside was a black leather collar overlaid with that same opal lace. There were metal loops at the front and back where a leash might be clipped. Elain shivered and licked her lips, “Azriel, is this-“

“Open this one next.” He handed her a heavy rectangular box. Inside were silver chains with a black leather tube connecting them. On the top of the tube was a small loop where another leash or chain might be clipped. At the ends of the chains already in the box- intricate filigree nipple clamps.

The next box held the leash- an adjustable thin leather one that worked both with the collar and the end of the clamps. After that was a matching cuff set- long strips that would hook into the eyelets on their bedframe and connect to wrist and ankle bands. Bondage was nothing new to Elain and Azriel- it was a favorite form of play for both.

After that came a much longer satin-and-lace leash, one to tie Elain to a hook over their front bedroom window. The heaviest box held a long metal bar that ended in twin manacles padded with thick leather. It could be adjusted for width up to several feet, however far Elain was comfortable with.

Together, she and Azriel opened boxes containing their new undergarments. For Elain, Anwynn had kept with Azriel’s color and materials theme. Her breasts would be largely exposed, with webbing of opal and black lace to push them together and hold them as a presentation of sorts. A barely-there girdle would sit around her stomach and give Azriel something else he could hold on to as well. There were no panties in the ensemble, but rather a thin black garter belt that connected to long black tights dotted in opal roses.

Azriel’s box had satin pants that would come to his knees. An opal ribbon was wound in stages through eyelets on the inside seam pants all the way up through the crotch, but if he looked closely he could see that there were actually several laces on each side. He was confused for a moment before he realized the purpose behind them- Elain would be able to remove the ties with her tongue.

Even a mental image of the act was enough to make him hard.

“This is the best I can offer you,” Azriel handed Elain the final package. It was another long one, but narrow. “I’m sorry it isn’t what you wanted.”

She kissed his forehead before opening the final gift. Inside was a smooth black handled flog that ended in dozens of strips of knotted black or opal ribbon.

Azriel swallowed hard, “I’m sorry Elain, you said on your birthday that you wanted to play with crops and I just- I can’t do that. Not to you.” Because he’d done just that to so many others over the centuries.

Elain closed her eyes and cursed herself soundly, “Tell me why you were so distant last night. Please, be honest.”

“On your birthday, when I refused, you looked disappointed. I know this isn’t enough. I know it’s not exactly what you’d asked for… I was afraid you wouldn’t like it.”

“Azriel, I was upset with  _myself_  that day. Not you. I knew the second I asked that you would refuse and why. I shouldn’t have made you say it.”

“But it’s what you want,” he looked at his hands. “I just- I just can’t.”

“A riding crop isn’t going to put a dent in this marriage,” Elain lifted his face until he was looking back at her. “It’s one sex toy, and not one we even need. Azriel- if you told me we could have nothing but soft missionary sex for the rest of eternity I  _still_  wouldn’t be disappointed.”

“Yes you would,” he murmured and tried to smile.

Elain laughed, “Alright, I would tie you to the bed and mount you until you changed your mind. Still- it’s always perfectly fine to set limits.”

“You’ve never turned me down for anything.”

She raised an eyebrow, “I won’t let you spread syrup between my legs and lick it off.” They’d had that discussion just the other night after sharing a bowl of iced cream.

“Yeah, I went to the library yesterday morning and you were right. Food is not supposed to be around that particular orifice.”

“The riding crop is no different than chocolate syrup. It’s something we just won’t do.”

Azriel’s worry was turning more towards embarrassment that he’d let something so simple trouble him in the first place. He pulled Elain tighter against his chest and tipped over backwards, dragging her along so that they lay side-by-side on the cream carpet, “I’m an idiot.”

“No you’re not. We just have to work on communicating a little better. I should have said something back on my birthday.”

His mind drifted back to the pamphlet Anwynn had given him, “In the interest of communication-“

“I like it when you pull my hair, a firm hand on my throat is alright but I’m not comfortable with choking, we agree to disagree on spanking, you know I’ll always be happy with harder and faster, and my safe word is still ‘Marigold’.”

Azriel knew all of those things already, “Actually, when I bought the new stuff, Anwynn gave me a pamphlet on what to expect after we’re done. How to take care of you- and me- so that there are no lingering problems. How to make sure we get back to this.” He traced a hand lightly on his wife’s cheek “Both of us- but you in particular- could be a bit lost once it’s over.”

“I remember.” Elain shifted and a shadow flickered in her eyes. Azriel knew he wasn’t the first man-male she’d ever had. He was the first and only fae she had ever made love to, the third male she’d had any sort of relationship with, but the fourth she’d taken to bed (thanks to a disappointing threesome between her first lover and a friend).  The third man she’d bedded was interested in domination and submission, and he was the one who introduced her to that world.

“What happened, if it’s alright to ask?”

Elain shrugged, “He thought when we were done we were just done. We didn’t want Nesta or Feyre to find out, so I would have to walk home afterwards. It’s like… like drinking too much, or being lost. It was always days before I felt quite right, and it changed how we were together entirely. I don’t think he meant to- we were both just figuring it all out and didn’t do a very good job of it.”

“Here,” Azriel tipped up just far enough to open the end-table drawer where he’d placed the pamphlet. He handed it to Elain and laid back down beside her, “Let’s figure it out together.”

They spent the next hour laying on the floor reading and re-reading the pamphlet. Elain made a few suggestions of things that might help, but they would have to play it by ear this first time. Neither knew what would happen their first time at play. It was likely to be tame compared to what they might work their way up to, but could it still be wild enough to push her mind into that strange state of being?

Only after they’d discussed how things would end did Elain nudge Azriel and grin, “Well? Shall we?”

“Aright,” Azriel stood and helped Elain to her feet. He gathered all of her new toys and accessories in his arms while she took the boxes holding their new lingerie.

Elain ducked into the bathroom one last time and changed into her new outfit, Azriel attached cuffs and ropes to hooks throughout the room. As he finished hanging the longer leash, Elain came out at last.

He moaned at the sight of her. She’d tightened each strap so that the clothing hugged her as a second skin. Her breasts were peaked and pushed together, emphasizing their size. Each areola was delicately pink- a perfect match to the lipstick she’d applied. Between her legs, Elain was freshly waxed and Azriel’s pants tightened at the thought of that soft skin against his lips.

“Where do I start?” Her question wasn’t part of their play- that would start when Azriel had changed. Still, she felt a pulse in her core at the smoldering lust in his gaze.

“On your knees,” his voice was rough. “Right here, by the window.” He bent down and pulled away a large cobalt rug to reveal a break in the cream carpeting where a wooden floor was hidden.

Elain obeyed while Azriel fetched the remaining accessories. He buckled her collar around her throat and let her tighten it while he flicked at her breasts. Satisfied that her nipples were ready, he pinched the clamps on and tightened them only enough to hold against the weight of the chain. Again, as Azriel moved on to help her into other accessories, Elain tightened them herself.

“Ready for the cuffs?” he asked.

“One thing really quick.” She grabbed his hand and directed it to the leather grip at the center of her chain. Azriel pinched it and she pulled his hand up slowly until she winced, “That’s maximum.” Elain set the boundary when the grip was nearly eye-level.

“Wow, that far? Alright.” Azriel pointed to one of the clips, “If anything starts hurting too much, your safe word will unlock those. As for the cuffs-“ he gathered Elain’s hands behind her and strapped on the thick leather. Azriel took her pointer fingers just as Anwynn had his and showed her where the emergency release was, “Got it?”

“Got it. And the legs?” She glanced back as Azriel pushed the spreader bar into place. He supported her with a hand on her chest as she leaned forward and angled her foot into the manacle at the end.

“There is a notch in the center, it will be right beneath your hands. Just find that and push. It will pull your legs in slowly, then pop open. Nothing too sudden. If your hands are above you, just roll your feet in opposite directions three times.”

He pulled Elain’s hair up half way and tied it off with a strip of leather, “Ready?”

“Ready- but kiss me before you go change.”

“Before I get into character?” Azriel snorted. He kissed each of Elain’s eyelids before sliding the blindfold into place. He pulled the top half of her hair through the band so that it sat across the middle of her head, then tightened the strap down slowly- mindful of any hairs that found their way into the clasp. Only when he was sure he would be able to pull it off without scalping her did Azriel undo the tie on her hair and let it all fall down once more.

“A proper kiss,” Azriel rested his forehead against hers and slowly dipped his chin until their lips touched. Elain’s lips moved against his and he smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He backed away slowly, headed towards a window that overlooked the back yard. It was already spelled heavily against sound and sight, so he didn’t hesitate to open it and allow cool morning air into the room, “Tell me if you get too cold.”

“I will.” Elain smiled at the kiss of wind against her skin.

Azriel left her there in darkness to wait for his return. All she could do was smile as she imagined what he would do to her. This bondage was nothing too new, but an Azriel who was dominant and commanding in the bedroom (on occasion)? That was what she looked forward to the most.

Elain shuddered in anticipation as the start of their game drew closer. A grin tugged at her lips as she thought about what was to come- not only the domination, but his face when he realized what she had given him for their anniversary.

His gift wasn’t forgotten, it was just that he had already received it.

“What are you grinning at?”

Elain shouted in surprise and nearly fell over. Azriel had somehow slipped across the room without her even hearing him. His voice was a whisper against the curve of her ear- husband or no, it sent a jolt of fear through her.

He caught Elain as she tipped to the side and roughly straightened her, then put a comforting hand on her shoulder. It would take some time for him to warm to his new role.

“Guess what I found in the bathroom?” His voice was low, cold.

“What?” she frowned. She hadn’t left anything in there when she changed. Her first nightgown was folded neatly on a small shelf. It was the proper place- Elain and Azriel both had their own for clothes they did not need to worry about washing yet.

A hand clamped around her throat immediately and Elain gasped. He was well within her tolerance, but the action surprised her, “What–?” he waited for her to finish.

“What  _sir_?” Elain asked, breathless.

“Better, pet.” Azriel released her. He had no idea what she wanted to be called, he just knew she didn’t want him to use her name.

Elain waited in darkness, her heart thundering. She dug her nails into her palm to fight the smile back from her lips. Azriel was doing  _so well_ , but she had to swallow the temptation to tell him so.

Something touched Elain’s lips and she jumped again. It was hard and cool. He was just barely holding it to her mouth and before she could figure out what it was, he began to spin the object. Azriel showed Elain the shape of whatever she’d left, “The sooner you guess, the less trouble you’ll be in.”

The edge vanished from her lips and reappeared moments later on her breast where it swirled around a nipple. She couldn’t figure out what it was. At least, not until he rested it sideways against her breast and she felt the way the cold sides angled inwards.

“ _Don’t forget to start the hourglass this time,_ ” Azriel leaned in to whisper in Elain’s ear, repeating what he’d said that morning. “This hourglass takes four hours to run out, and yet here it is. Not a grain of sand in the top.”

She’d forgotten. Even as he teased her for not remembering  _one time_ , she’d forgotten.

_Shit!_

“I’m sorry, I forgot… sir.” She’d never hear the end of it.

Azriel set the hourglass aside and touched a finger to Elain’s chest, warning her silently where he was going. She braced herself as he grabbed the chain between her nipples and tugged, hauling her up so that she was forced to sit up on her knees and expose her rear, “That hourglass is for your own safety. You could hurt yourself leaving it in too long.”

Elain whimpered as the clamps yanked at her nipples, but bolts of electricity seemed to flash beneath her skin down to her core. She felt something waking in her very soul- something tense and hard ready to snap.

Elain didn’t know how she would stand with her hands bound behind her and her legs trapped in the manacles, but she needn’t worry. Once she was up high enough, Azriel’s pull changed direction. He forced her forward and down. Something warm and sturdy caught her across her stomach and Elain realized what he was doing- he was pulling her over his knee.

He would never spank her properly, not in the way she wanted. He considered that too close to beating her- too close to the darker elements of his work. Still, Elain hoped he would find some way to make it sting.

Azriel dragged his wife forward by her nipple clamps, more than a little thankful that she was blindfolded. He could sound cold and dangerous, but his eyes were fearful.

_Do this properly for her._

Truth be told, the hourglass was still around half-full, and running as it should be. He just needed something to help him set the tone. Now that he had a beginning point for their play, he would simply let it take its course.

Azriel’s hand slipped down Elain’s back towards the firm curve of her backside. Exposed by her new position was her birthday present- a pink crystal flower attached to a small metal shaft that vanished into his wife at her second entrance. Elain’s favorite little toy, right where she liked it.

His shadows tracked the strange tension between them as his rough hands moved ever closer to that flower. Azriel squeezed her soft skin and circled the metal shaft with his thumb. He pulled at the skin, stretching it back out and readying it for what he had planned. Elain began to breathe harder as the pressure in his chest tightened, until-

As that tether snapped and a roaring filled Azriel’s mind, he pulled the flower out. The thin rod opened after an inch or so into a large teardrop-shaped bulb. Her puckered skin stretched wide as he quickly and smoothly pulled it from her rear.

Elain came with a shuddering cry. Pain and pleasure crashed into one another and her body didn’t know which to feel. All she knew was that it made her even wetter. She was the one shaking with orgasm, but it felt as if something in Azriel was stirring.

When he snuck into the room to surprise Elain, he’d brought with him the plug’s container, now filled with cleaning solution. He quickly deposited the flower inside before grabbing the back of Elain’s neck and yanking her up off his knee, “Who said you could come?” His voice was rougher even than before, and his satin pants were agonizingly tight.

“I’m sorry, sir!” Elain gasped.

“WHO SAID YOU COULD COME?!” He shouted, though fear filled his heart when she flinched at the sound. He made a mental note to keep his voice lower.

“No one, sir.” Her thighs were shaking as she fell back down to sit on her feet. They couldn’t close with the spreader as open as it was, and the scent of her climax quickly filled the room.

Azriel loosed a primal growl, “So then why did you,  _pet_?”

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t help it. I’ll do better, sir. I promise.”

“Prove it,” Azriel grabbed Elain’s chin and pulled her face down to the side of his knee where the satin lace of his pants began. “Take them off. And don’t you dare use your hands.”

 _This game is one of her gifts,_  he reminded himself.  _Don’t stop playing until she does… and don’t take the blindfold off until you can handle it._

Elain’s lips brushed against his leg and Azriel forced himself to swallow his moan. It was taking every ounce of control to keep from throwing her on the bed and burying himself in her until they were both incapable of movement. Everything in him- body and soul- was ready to pounce.

Her tongue against his skin made Azriel harder. He had to even the score with Elain and  _fast_.

She delivered soft kisses and scraped her teeth against his skin as she pulled the laces out one by one. Anwynn had ensured no ribbon was too long, and after only a few inches Elain held an opal tie in her teeth.

“Where would you like me to put this, sir?” She asked around the lace.

“Spit it on the floor, pet.”

“Yes, sir.” She did as she was told.

“Keep it even,” Azriel snapped when Elain turned back to the same leg. He hated speaking so sharply to his wife, but at least his voice could sound convincing enough. When Azriel browsed Anwynn’s shop, the first accessory he’d decided on was the blindfold. Without it he had no hope of giving her this gift.

It took Elain a moment to find his other leg, but she rose up on her knees and set to work again on his pants. Inch by inch, her lips and tongue moved closer to his bulging crotch. Elain would reach his testicles first, then kiss her way up and around the front of his member to undo the final tie.

At the first touch of her lips against the delicate flesh beneath his length, Azriel growled once more and grabbed her hair in a fist. He pushed her against him and controlled her speed, savoring the feeling of her mouth as she took his balls one at a time. With the tie gone she sucked them into her mouth and massaged each with her tongue. Back and forth Elain went, making sure neither was neglected. Her husband had resisted shaving especially for her, and she moaned as his stubble scraped against her face.

As soon as he felt his body tighten, Azriel yanked Elain’s hair and pulled her further up the pants to turn her attentions once more on those pesky ties.

She couldn’t see him staring hard at the ceiling, willing himself to think of anything besides the lips brushing now against his shaft through that thin satin. If he thought about it- or looked down- he would erupt.

Azriel’s breathing hitched as Elain’s tongue glanced across the head of his cock. The moment her tongue curled around the top tie he pulled her head away.

“Here is what’s going to happen, my pet,” Azriel panted, “you’re going to lay on the bed where I tell you to and suck my cock. If you do it  _well_ , I will let you touch yourself. If not- or if you give yourself permission to come again- I will tie you to the wall and fuck you until you can’t remember your safe word. Understood?”

He could scent Elain’s answer in the drip of moisture that slipped down the inside of her thigh, “Yes, sir.” Her voice was slightly higher, innocent. She knew it drove him insane, she was trying to make him lose control. Azriel supposed it was only fair- he intended to use every last trick he’d learned in the last year to push her over the edge time and again, until she was begging for mercy.

Azriel undid the clasp between Elain’s cuffs and helped her stand. Her legs were immobilized by the spreader bar, but he simply lifted her beneath her arms and carried her over to the bed, then shoved her roughly across it. She fell with a happy squeak and immediately stretched out her arms. Azriel circled the bed and connected her wrist cuffs to the straps meant for her right arm and leg. She opened her mouth wide, ready, but nothing came.

Elain waited in darkness and listened for some hint of Azriel’s steps. She didn’t dare close her mouth. Minutes ticked by and the pounding in her core only increased. Her climax when Azriel ripped the plug from her left her body hungry and aching for something else to fill it.

A finger traced her lips and Elain jumped once more. She couldn’t stop the squeak of surprise at his touch.

“Remember,” Azriel said, “do a good job and you’ll get a reward. Act without my permission and I will make sure you can’t walk right for a week. Do you understand, pet?”

“Yes sir. I promise I’ll do my best.”

Elain was pulled towards the edge of the bed further, until her head was completely off the mattress. Azriel’s thumb circled her lips once more as he gently stroked his cock. When she rolled her hips- a sign that her body was aching for him- he pushed forward and replaced his thumb with the head of his cock.

She sucked at it as best she could, and Azriel pushed forward slowly. He used the same gentle roll of his hips as when he fucked her properly. Anything less and she would have trouble accepting him in her throat. His eyelids grew heavy at the sensation of her lips and teeth along his shaft at last.

He knew how far she could take him in this position, and Azriel paused once he’d reached her maximum, “This is mine.” He grabbed the leather of her nipple clamps and pulled it slowly up her chest, along her throat, and over her chin.

Her body jerked against the various restraints as the vicious pressure of the clamps sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain. Azriel stopped the chain when it was level with her lips, giving him only a few inches of room. He locked his arm in place and pulled out of Elain’s mouth. With just the tip was in, he adjusted where he held the length of leather so that it was parallel with her eyes- the limit she’d set.

Elain squealed around his cock as he began to thrust in and out of her mouth, yanking the clamps with each retreat. The scent of arousal only grew and he smiled, “You like this, don’t you little pet?”

“Yes, sir!” she gasped the next time he pulled out, then opened her mouth wide to accept him once more.

The hollowing of her cheeks every time he pulled out was Azriel’s favorite sight, but he couldn’t deny that he also took pleasure in the way her throat rippled as he pushed into it. He made sure his pace allowed her a breath between thrusts, and paid close attention to the position of the nipple chains, lest he accidentally move them too far.

“Bend your knees.” Azriel ordered. The roughness in his voice wasn’t entirely feigned.

Elain obeyed in an instant.

“Good. Now, open your hand. When I release you, I want you to rub your clit with what I hand you.”

Her hand snapped open in an instant. Azriel maintained his thrusts, but reached over and grabbed what he had vanished to retrieve- a bowl of ice. He set it down beside Elain’s left side and picked a large cube. As Azriel transferred it to Elain’s right hand, he sent some of his power into the air around the ice- softening it so that there was no risk of it sticking (as it had one horrible night).

Elain’s long, low moan when the ice touched her hand was almost enough to make Azriel erupt. He unclipped her wrist and- as instructed- in a moment she was swirling the ice around that knot at the apex of her thigs.

“Remember, pet: You only get to come when I say you can.” Azriel patted Elain’s cheek as he thrust in and she did her best to nod.

The next time Azriel pulled out, Elain momentarily took the ice off of her body to push his hand back against his stomach- a few inches higher than the original maximum she’d set for that chain. Elain’s breathing was ragged with both pain and desire, but she didn’t move her hand back between her legs until Azriel’s own relaxed flat against his abdomen.

Order received.

She returned to swirling the ice through her lower lips and around her knot, and slowly Azriel resumed his motion. He gave Elain time to change her mind if she needed to- but she was considerably more warmed up now than she had been when she first set the limit. Her cries as he pulled out were more pronounced, but so were her deep moans of approval. Elain’s hips ground into the bed as she pushed the ice harder and harder against her clit.

The tremor in her thighs gave her away, “Don’t you dare come,” Azriel said smoothly. Elain whimpered and forced her hand to slow. Melting ice dripped through her core and made her burn even hotter.

“You nearly disobeyed me, didn’t you?” He pulled out so that Elain could answer.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, but I promise I didn’t come.”

“You tried to, and that’s enough to earn a punishment.” Azriel took the black leather connector at the center of her nipple chains and began to twist it. As the two ends wrapped around themselves the overall length shortened. Once he was satisfied, Azriel slid the black leather connection into Elain’s collar. It sat wider than the metal loop, locking it into place (as Anwynn promised it would).

“I’m not going to be gentle anymore. Keep that ice on your clit, and we’ll see if you’re still feeling rebellious, pet.” He saw Elain shiver in anticipation as she opened her mouth and took his cock once more.

He thrust into her mouth harder and faster than before. Her breasts swung with the motion- or tried to. Every time he pulled himself forward on her shoulders the chain went suddenly tight and she squealed against his shaft. It was a sharp, relentless bite that she could not control as Azriel used her body for leverage.

Elain’s hand shuddered as she fought her orgasm back. She lost the ice, but there was no picking it up again. Azriel reached out and delivered a sharp swat to her clit (though nothing harder than he had done in past games). That would be her only punishment for losing the ice.

“Swallow every drop,” he ground out, then pushed one last time into her throat.

Elain shuddered as Azriel erupted. If she still had the ice in her hand, she would have come despite his command.

Azriel loosed a soft, deep cry as Elain took his release expertly. He pulled back with heavy steps, giving her more room while he stroked as much of his cock as he could touch. He felt himself emptying, but his body filled her more than usual.

Apparently the week long sex ban had done its job.

She couldn’t swallow fast enough, not in that position, and so Elain just held her mouth open and let Azriel slowly pull himself free. She was breathing hard through her nose. As soon as he was out he quickly undid the other restraint on her and tipped her up by her shoulders so that he supported her weight on his chest and made her job easier.

For now, at least, his cock hung limp.

She finished swallowing and Azriel passed her a small cube of ice to melt against her tongue and help rinse her mouth.

“I dropped my ice, sir.” Elain gasped, “I’m sorry.”

“You received your punishment for that already.” He slid her chains back out of the collar.

She sighed when the tension in her breasts vanished, “Thank you, sir.”

Azriel’s smile was soft as he traced Elain’s lips again. What did he want next? How would he torment her in that wicked, perfect way they enjoyed?

“We’re going to play another game. One you won’t like.” He knelt and adjusted so that Elain’s head rested on his shoulder. She was still propped up slightly, and Azriel pulled her wrist over to reconnect it with the restraints. No moving her arms.

“Yes sir,” Elain shivered and tried to clench her thighs. The bar kept her from any relief.

He glanced to her hourglass and used his magic to winnow it to him. With a wave of his hand, he changed how quickly the sand would fall.

“Endure it for five minutes, pet.” Azriel whispered into Elain’s ear as he picked up the abandoned chain from her nipple clamps and slid the black leather grip between her teeth. “And before you ask- no. At no point will you have permission to come. If you accept your punishment well, I’ll grant you a wish.”

Before Elain knew what was happening, Azriel’s fingers were sliding through her soaked folds and pushing into her. She screamed into the chain and threw her head back- yanking at her breasts. The sensation only enhanced that of her husband’s hand. She kicked her legs, struggling against the manacles to throw herself harder against him.

Azriel chuckled, “You sound so lewd.” He bit the curve of her ear lightly and flipped the hourglass. When she remembered she could lift her hips to push against his hand, he slid the other one down her abdomen and pinned her to the bed.

Elain was strong, but he was far, far stronger.

She grunted and gasped, screamed and thrashed in his grip. Her every movement was contrary to itself- a struggle to push harder into his fingers while also trying to slip them out just a bit- far enough so that he wasn’t rubbing against that textured ridge of flesh that was as strong a stimulant as her knot. If Elain’s mind wasn’t buried in a pleasure-fog she might have given silent thanks that he wasn’t pushing on that as well. She wasn’t sure she could endure without reaching climax.

Azriel watched her intently, adjusting speed and strength as her control faltered. She was clenching his fingers tighter than he thought she was capable of with just her core. Even spread as she was- he began to question if  _he_  could continue the assault for five minutes.

Sometimes he moved quickly and forcefully, until Elain’s legs began to jerk and she threw back her head in a throaty scream. Other times- when his wrist tired- he slowed and just gently circled the ridged skin of her nerves. As the sands slipped through, Elain was only getting wetter.

Curiously, that stirring in Azriel’s soul was getting stronger too.

“You’ve done very well,” he whispered in her ear with nearly a minute left. “But I don’t really want to grant you a wish, so let’s see how you handle this.”

His entire hand was soaked by her juices, so it was simply a matter of angling his ring finger down and then inward.

Elain’s scream was edged in a sob of frustration as Azriel’s finger pressed against her other entrance. The plug she’d worn earlier left her open enough that he slid in with little resistance.

He could hear the words in her cry as clearly as if she’d shouted them properly:  _Not fair!_  She had thrown every last ounce of her will into ignoring her core as Azriel teased her, but now he curled his ring finger so that it stroked the back of his middle finger with only a thin, sensitive line of flesh separating them.

Azriel grinned at the bright red flush against her cheeks. The move was one Elain lovingly called “The Great Cheat”- something he’d learned set her off in record time, no matter how many climaxes he’d already wrested from her. He usually only did it during one of their little lovemaking competitions.

Elain’s hips strained against his hand and she threw her head back again- trying to use the pain of her nipple clamps to grant some relief from the agonizing glory between her legs. Azriel knew her eyes would be clenched tight beneath the blindfold. She was trying anything and everything to distract herself.

One minute, she just had to endure one more minute.

“Don’t come pet,” he teased, drawing her attention to his voice and away from whatever she was using to withstand his hand. He slid his thumb up to rest against her knot, drawing another scream of exasperation. Somehow, she tightened her core even harder- which made what he was doing all the more difficult to endure without taking the blessed release.

“Don’t think about my hand between your legs. I’m inside you- and you’re  _so wet_. So warm. Doesn’t it feel good?” he whipped his thumb across her knot even as he ramped up the intensity of his touch. He leaned over and nipped at the chain, abruptly tightening the pressure on it. Elain’s hips shot forward against his hand and her useless arms gripped the sheets tight.

She was trapped in a long, enduring scream as she wrestled against her own body’s aching need for release. On a normal day it would be torture. With the call of the echo, it was enough to shutter Elain’s senses entirely. She was losing herself in the pleasure and her role. A part of herself was shutting down to simply obey the voice at her ear.

“Don’t come,” he repeated, though now he was moving as quickly as he was capable of. Azriel’s arm burned all the way up to his shoulder. He watched the hourglass running out and slid his pinky against his ring finger so that four fingers filled Elain. Her entire body went hard and tense, but she didn’t come.

The last sands ran through.

“Good, my little pet.” Azriel whispered against her ear. His hand abruptly slowed as he slid his fingers from her. He slid his thumb to the space just above her knot- the top ridge of its hood. As soon as his hand was off her abdomen he expected her to move, but that tension remained. She was shaking from it- burning as she tried not to come.

She was  _visibly_  resisting grinding herself against his thumb.

“What do you wish for, pet? And don’t say you want to come. That’s boring.”

Everything in her body and soul was focused on the thumb above her knot. There was nothing in her world beyond that. Even without the blindfold, Elain wouldn’t have been able to see. She was breathing hard, whimpering and growling with the effort it took to hold her orgasm at bay.

“Pet,” he yanked slightly on the nipple clamps to get her attention, “your master asked what you wanted as your reward. Answer me,  _now._ ” The words were slow, drawn out.

She whimpered, but managed just one word, “ _More_.” Her voice cracked- she was desperate. She needed his hand back inside her- or perhaps something longer. She needed to feel more pleasure- to have that wave break over her and shatter her very being.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He loosened the restraints on her wrists enough to move Elain across the bed. Azriel circled to the other side and grabbed her hips, dragging her until her feet were on the floor. Her arms were stretched as far as the restraints allowed- there wouldn’t be any opportunity to move. Azriel knew he would have to keep an eye on her hands, just in case the cuffs cut off blood flow.

“Keep the chain in your teeth,” Azriel instructed. He retrieved the hourglass, then planted a foot on the spreader bar to keep her feet locked to the ground. Too much weight and it would bite into the tops of her feet, so he put a hard wall of air beneath the bar to ensure it wouldn’t harm her.

The sounds of her fighting her release combined with the heat and moisture inside her had made him hard once again. Azriel stroked himself with his still-damp hand. It would take some angling to match his hips with hers, but he needed to be inside his wife. The thing waking in his soul was pushing him towards her.

“You said you wanted more?” he asked.

Elain nodded, “ _Please sir_ ,” she was completely breathless. Her words were caught in the leather guard of the chain somewhat, but he understood.

“Fine then.” Azriel set the hourglass sand-side-down on her stomach, just beneath her taught breasts, “Five more minutes, and if you let that fall off it becomes fifteen.” She cried at the realization that she had to endure another round without any release.

He grabbed something else on the edge of the bed- the satin flogger, and cracked it against Elain’s side. Azriel had tested it on himself when he went downstairs for the ice- nothing more than a sting from the knots at the end. Something small and hard was in the center of each knot to give it a bit more bite, but only enough of one to make its presence known.

That was why Azriel chose the satin one and not one of the nylon or leather flogging heads. Anything stronger and he was afraid his mind would slide into a dark, cruel state.

Elain jerked at the snap and cooed as she remembered the toy. While she was distracted, her husband pounced.

The release transferred to his cock coupled with her own dripping wetness was more than enough to facilitate his member as Azriel shoved all the way in in one mighty thrust. Elain screamed into the grip and nearly threw the hourglass off in her surprise. He caught it and used the end to force her arched back down onto the bed.

“Don’t. Let. That. Fall.” He swatted at her with the flog to punctuate each word- strikes to each hip and the underside of her breasts. He used the little display of dominance to grant her the chance to adjust to his shape. Elain  _needed_ release, and it was only because she was fighting so hard against it still that she did not come the moment Azriel’s cock touched her.

Now, with it inside her, her task was nearly impossible.

“Five minutes- and you can’t come. Starting  _now_.” He flipped the hourglass and pulled out until just the tip was inside her heat and warmth. “I’m going to make this unbearable.”

He wholly surrendered to the raging lust in his veins- that demon born of the echo. Azriel grabbed Elain’s hips and set a hard, fast rhythm that had him deep inside his wife and grinding against all of her favorite parts. He had to angle low with his hips, and supported most of his weight on one arm near Elain’s midsection.

With every pump into her body the thing in his soul grew stronger. It was his love for Elain- a pure beacon of joy and trust that he had never felt with another being. He let that love crash through him and wash away any lingering trace of darkness or pain.

For the sake of their game he could not let it show.

Her screams as he’d fingered her were nothing compared the ones she loosed now. What she felt was stronger than any orgasm she had ever had- but without the relief. It was the cruelest torture and most sinfully delicious gift. She felt as though she were trying to hold a tsunamis back with just a small hand, but she fought that mighty wave tooth and nail as her husband became something more animal than fae. No amount of pain in her breasts could fight against the feeling of him slamming into her or his growling shouts in her ear.

New heat flooded Elain’s core as Azriel came again- but it didn’t make him slow for a second. She took that heat and it very nearly cost her the war. Rope after rope- her husband’s seed filled her and yet he didn’t soften at all. She screamed with the effort of battling back all those feelings that had destroyed her conscious mind.

Azriel filling her without (apparent) care for her own desire- she was nothing more than an object for his pleasure. The thought turned Elain on more than she would ever have imagined was possible.

Each time she felt the wave gain ground, something light nipped at her breasts- the flog. It added just enough pain to help her push back, tighten her core harder, and damn herself further.

She couldn’t worry about how long she had left, she was holding as still as possible to keep the hourglass in place, but everything inside of her was roaring and thrashing. Azriel came again and Elain screamed hard and loud-

-she lost the chain.

Her lifeline. The only hope she had of making it through another century of this beautiful torment.

Azriel couldn’t help but play devil once more.

He ripped the blindfold off of Elain and grabbed her hair. Before her eyes could even adjust to the light he threw the hourglass aside and yanked her up just far enough to see his emptying cock splitting the lips of her sex.

“Look how red you are, my pet.” He growled as she blinked against the light and those beautiful eyes rolled up into her head, “ _I said- look at how red you are!_ ”

He pulled at her hair and Elain’s eyes managed to focus for a moment. Her split skin was hot and swollen, as flushed as the rest of her while he pumped in and out. A layer of white cream had built along his shaft- not the remainder of his twin releases, but rather the froth that formed from her own arousal.

The sight was almost enough to shred Elain’s control. She was holding on by a thread, nothing more.

With a grunt Azriel stopped moving. Truth be told, the hourglass had run out long before he spilled his second load. He wanted to punish Elain again- to play dark games with her body until she was begging him for release. Her control was iron, and he hadn’t found the right trigger to melt her.

Elain’s eyes rolled up into her head again as he released her hair. She was shaking, shuddering around him and yet she had done more admirably than he ever would have imagined.

“Pet,” he barked, his voice rough and hard. He removed the foot holding down her spreader bar and stepped back, withdrawing from her entirely, “ _Come._ ”

Her entire body lifted off of the bed and she screamed hard enough to wreck her throat for days. The tsunamis she was warring with drowned her beneath its assault- punishment for making it wait. Her release as well as Azriel’s poured onto the floor beneath them. Azriel didn’t move, didn’t speak, and didn’t touch her as Elain continued to roar and shake.

Wave after wave- orgasm after orgasm. Elain had held on so hard that it took no encouragement to let loose every last ounce of pleasure her body was capable of feeling. She gasped for air- a long, hard sound, and her body went suddenly limp. She continued to breathe hard and fast, but her eyes rolled up into her head.

She had passed out.

Azriel undid the clasp on her wrists and linked the cuffs together once more. He saw Elain’s head twitch, then start slightly as consciousness slowly returned.

“Come along.”

Azriel lifted the still half-awake Elain over one shoulder and walked her to the wooden floor- and the longer leash suspended there. He used a blind hand to find the end of the leash, then the connector on Elain’s cuffs. She wouldn’t be able to stand properly, but the rope would hold her weight.

Elain didn’t even seem to notice when he set her down. Her toes barely reached the floor, and she hung entirely from her wrists as sweat dripped down her body to mingle with the stream of releases between her legs.

He smiled to himself as he turned to grab the shorter leash. Elain may have had other partners, but he was both first to draw the flood  _and_  knock her out.

Azriel clipped the short leash to the small loop at the center of the chain’s leather guard- a loop he was happy Elain hadn’t bitten down on during their play. He slipped the handle of the leash into a clasp on the windowsill, then pushed the curtains open wide. She could see all of Velaris- a perfect view of the distant mountains, the winding Sidra, and even passersby on the street.

By all accounts, they should be able to see her tied and bound- her breasts pulled straight in front, and her head lolling about at the violent release her husband had drawn. Thankfully the windows were enchanted against anyone seeing just that. Public and private at the same time- it was a dark desire that both Elain and Azriel shared- one that very nearly got them into trouble at Rita’s once upon a time.

Mercifully, when Amren had slumped exhausted into the booth after a dance, she didn’t even question why Elain might be sitting on Azriel’s lap. Even more mercifully, she’d run off again after chugging a glass of whiskey and they’d managed a quick finish.

“Hold this for me, pet.” Azriel grabbed the flog from the bed, flipped it upside down, and quickly pushed the handle up into Elain.

Her entire body jerked back to consciousness and she made a not-so-pleasurable sound at the intruder in her too-sensitive core. The motion yanked against the nipple clamps and Azriel grabbed Elain’s thighs before she swung further back from the leash. Her core tightened obediently around the flog, but her mind couldn’t even process what it was.

Azriel’s game had broken her- she couldn’t think beyond the exhaustion and the pleasure. All she knew was that if she listened, he would give her more.

Azriel flipped the latch on her feet and released Elain from the spreader. Her hips ached as she tried to bring her legs together. She’d fought both for and against just that for too long- those legs were utterly useless. There wasn’t even strength left in them to stand.

He felt a breath forming in their frenzied lust- a pocket of sanity about to bloom.

 _About_  to bloom, it hadn’t reached them yet.

Azriel picked up the flower plug from the cleaning solution and rinsed it off with the melt from the ice he’d brought up. Elain was still finding her mind, but he didn’t want her coming back  _too_  far.

He summoned the erotic oils from their bathroom- what Elain had used when she pushed the plug in earlier. After it was prepared, Azriel returned to her side.

“Deep breath, you get a special reward for being such a good pet.”

Elain shuddered in both anticipation and fear. When she felt the cold head of her plug press against her rear, she forced the tension in her body back a moment. Only once she nodded did he pull the flog out and push the plug in with a firm, slow hand.

The flog fell to the floor and Elain’s body thrashed as she tried (and failed) to use her legs. Azriel pinned her stomach and forced the plug in to its proper place while she squealed.

“You get to come first this time,” he whispered into her ear.

Azriel pushed Elain forward- easing the tension on her breasts as he parted her legs, aimed his cock, and pushed slowly into her.

Her entire body lifted on arms that found new, emergency strength. She was always tight, but with the added pressure of the plug it was hard for Azriel to even  _move_. If the last climax hadn’t wrecked her, she would have come again. She was unbelievably full- the plug was even massaging Azriel’s cock nearly to the point of pain.

“Tell me when it hurts,” he slid their bodies back from the window an inch at a time, pulling the chain on her breasts.

When he heard a sharp cry, Azriel took a half step forward, setting the boundary well within her limitations.

He started off their final round slowly, letting Elain find pleasure once more. She was so full her lower half ached, but it was beautiful. Different than how he’d tortured her earlier, but far from anything sweet or gentle. It was still an owning of her body, a declaration of possession.

“Come when you can, pet.”

Elain’s body tightened and she shuddered around his cock. With a soft cry everything went tight and loose- then her strength utterly failed her. It was a small orgasm, but all she was capable of.

At least, that’s what she thought.

“Unacceptable.” Azriel hissed in her ear.

His hand moved up between her breasts to grab her collar hard enough to make his presence known. The other hand released her leg so that she fell against his abdomen and the flower at the end of her plug hit his pelvis. It was driven into her just a few centimeters more, but it was enough to make her scream. Azriel thrust as hard and as fast as the position allowed while he whipped at her knot.

Elain’s voice cracked as she cried out. Azriel’s mouth was against her ear and she heard every grunt and gasp. Each time he shoved into her he pushed the plug in against her. It stirred within her constantly, making sure she didn’t adjust to its presence. As her body swung back away from the window the clamps bit into her nipples and bolts of pain shot down into the core he was attacking with such relentless speed.

Pain and pleasure mixing and morphing into one another- Elain felt a true tension rising that was born of both. Exhausted as she was, she could not resist the call of oblivion. Elain threw herself into the storm at her back.

Azriel felt the change in her and released her throat. He kept one hand whipping over her knot, but now his other found the flower protruding from her rear and took hold of it. The bulb slid out to its thickest width, and Azriel pinned it there. Holding her open further than she would have thought possible as he thrust into her hard and fast.

“Try again,” he whispered in Elain’s ear. “Come properly this time, pet.”

Her back arched again and her useless feet lifted entirely off the ground. Her core rippled and spasmed around his length as Elain came with a proper, all-consuming scream that ripped the air from her lungs and threw Azriel over the edge.

He released the flower to fall out entirely and slammed into her, filling her once again with rope after rope of hot seed. Her entire body shook and thrashed as muscles were forced to surrender more energy than they had left. Azriel ground his fingers against her knot, pushing her through the wave that carried her away far too quickly. Despite her sudden silence, he pumped into her until her body took the final ropes of cum from his softening cock.

Her head lulled to the side and Elain made a soft, quiet noise. It was little more than a whimpered squeak, but still her nipple clamps released and the leash fell. That told Azriel all he needed to know.

She had used her safe word for freedom. The game was over.

Azriel pulled himself from within her and reached up to unlatch her cuffs from the rope. Elain fell without legs to support her. Her husband caught her, but his own body was spent as well and they both ended up sagging to the floor.

Elain’s skin was rapidly cooling, losing the flushed heat of lust. She shivered against Azriel as he undid the cuffs and collar with shaking fingers. As spent as she was, he was only minutely better off.

He felt the soft gasp hit- a reprieve from lusts’ call.

“Elain?” Azriel murmured her name for the first time since the game began.

There was no response from the shaking form in his arms.

Azriel put every last piece of himself into scooping up Elain’s limp form. He couldn’t go far, so he took her to the bathroom. She would need to be somewhere they hadn’t played their game.

He turned the water of the tub on and slid her onto the cool marble as she began to stir. Soft noises that might have been attempts at speech came from shaking lips. Azriel winnowed himself into the kitchen below and fetched two glasses of water.

The water in the tub was neither hot nor cold. He set the glasses on the wide lip of the tub and leaned back onto an angled portion of the bathtub meant for reclining and opened his wings wide. Azriel pulled Elain’s body off the bench and parted his legs so that she could lay along his body. With his wife in his arms, Azriel let the water cover them both. He whispered her name again and again, and gently inspected the dark red lines left by both clamps and cuffs. The red markings on her ankles from the manacles would be checked once she was recovered.

“Come back to me, my love” he whispered in her ear, far gentler than the dominant male of the bedroom would. Azriel kissed the marks on her wrist and gently massaged the tight muscles.

He sat up only to turn the water off, and it was when he reclined once more that Elain’s fingers twitched and managed to wrap around his. Once she knew she was holding his hand, she pulled it across her stomach to rest in a more comfortable position.

“Are you alright?” Elain didn’t respond to Azriel’s question, but he needed her to. The lust was clearing and worry filled his heart. She’d used her safe word- that meant he went too far. Far too far. “Elain? Are you alright? Nod if you’re alright.”

She nodded weakly.

“Really?”

“Really,” her voice was hoarse, but she managed to shift and turn her face towards his, “really really.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled at the fear in his voice and her eyes fluttered open, “Perfect. Thank you.”

“Thank  _you_. You were incredible Elain, thank you for everything.” He kissed her neck. “The thing with the plug-“

“May have to be a special-occasions-only kind of thing,” she groaned weakly against his chest at the soreness in her rear. “I don’t know if I could handle that too often.”

“I’m sorry,” he kissed the top of her head.

“Don’t be. If I had anything left it might have earned another flood. I loved it.” She tipped her head up to meet his eyes. Her other hand slid to his forearm to offer a comforting touch against his own shivering muscles, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he smiled.

“The flogging- it didn’t… you’re alright?” She had left it up to him if he would use that toy at all. Yes, it was a soft compromise for her, but Elain knew her husband’s fears.

Azriel considered it, “I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t scared at first, but… I’m alright. It was different enough. If it was a sturdier fabric that snapped more then maybe, but… I’m alright.” He squeezed her gently.

“It didn’t feel like work?”

“Trust me, work never feels  _that_  good.”

Elain’s eyes closed again. She wouldn’t fall asleep- the thing that stirred in both of them now wouldn’t let her- but her body and mind were frayed. “I liked the pants,” she said, the words helping to ground her even through the pain in her throat.

Azriel didn’t miss the extra little swallow, and he took his hand from beneath hers to lift her glass of water from the side of the tub. He held it to Elain’s lips and she parted them to drink, “You enjoyed that? I almost lost control at that little massage you gave me.”

She pushed his wrist when she was sated and he took the cup away. Elain smiled, “I know. I know all the tricks that work on you.”

“How about just light spooning the rest of the day?” Azriel splashed some water on his face. He felt an odd thrill of energy rising in him, pushing him back towards lust. Still, Elain probably wouldn’t be up for anything more.

“We can spoon, but after that I want you in every room of this house at least three times. Before it’s all over, I intend to break you.”

Azriel snorted at her bravado and adjusted Elain against his chest so that he could rub her hips. It could easily turn into an intimate position, but even if he had the energy Elain’s full-body flinch would have been enough to cool him, “Next time either we use the spreader less or don’t open it as wide.”

“It was the second five minutes,” she groaned as his fingers warmed and Azriel sent flickers of heat into her aching muscles, calming them. Under his guidance the pain was easing back. “I loved it- I’ve never come so hard and I’ll make you do that again as soon as we’re recovered enough for it, but it took its toll. Maybe we should have switched to soft restraints.”

Azriel buried his face in Elain’s neck, “It wasn’t exactly five minutes the second time.”

“How long?” he felt a hint of danger in her voice.

“Ten? Give or take?” He worked on a particularly vicious knot in Elain’s hip, offering comfort in a silent plea for forgiveness.

“Give or take  _what_?”

Azriel winced, “Two minutes?”

She growled, but no blow landed, “I’m going to make you  _suffer_ , you ass.”

“Just don’t make my ass suffer.” He kissed her cheek, “That’s  _your_  kink, darling.”

“Remember what happened on Solstice Eve? I can- and will- keep you on the edge for hours.”

It was the worst (and best) night of his life.

As their heartbeats slowed, Azriel used his body as a heat source to warm the bathwater and bring Elain’s temperature back up. She’d been a clammy, shivering wreck when they finished, and he didn’t want her to catch a cold.

“What did you think about the last thing I did with the flogger?” Azriel finished his work on the knot and moved his focus to her lower back, which was also a knotted mess. His body was as good as a hot towel, but Elain found the will to slide forward far enough for his hands to set to work.

“When you told me to hold it for you?” He didn’t answer, but rather kissed her shoulder in response. “That was one of the hottest parts.” Her mind had been all but gone then, but Elain was present enough to appreciate it.

“I picked that version  _just_  because the card said it was approved for insertion.” He smiled.

“Be honest- you stalked the lace shop until Anwynn was purple before you were willing to enter.”

“True,” he chuckled. “They were pink for a solid week, I was beginning to get a bit scared. They just look so  _innocent_  when they’re female, it made me feel seedy even thinking about them filling out the invoice. I wouldn’t have been able to ask any questions.”

Elain laughed, “When I bought my first plug they were male and looked too much like-“

“Cassian!” Both said it together.

“Exactly!” Elain giggled a bit too hard and set off a coughing fit. Azriel returned her water glass to her.

After that they kept the talking to a minimum- just enough to help ease both back into their proper dynamic, but not so much as to tax Elain’s voice. Once he was sure he could clamp down on his lust, Azriel planned to pay Madja a visit and pick up something to help Elain’s throat. The position he’d taken her mouth in on the bed was quite a bit rougher than the standard- it probably did as much damage as her screams.

“I’m running out of things in easy reach,” Azriel said at last. His hands were over Elain’s breasts and he was directing gentle heat into the delicate inner workings ravaged by the clamps. Her fae abilities would ensure that even if they used the clamps every day she would face no distortion, but he flattened her still-aching nipples with his palms all the same, giving them a rest.

Elain stretched against him. Her ankles were sore, and her hips didn’t feel right still. Besides that, most of her muscles were too weak to move much. Even as she straightened her arms her entire abdomen quaked hard enough to ripple the bathwater.

“I’m alright,” she rested her head on his shoulder. “How about you?”

“I was the one dealing all of that, remember? You’re more important.”

Elain reached up to flick his nose, “The pamphlet said we  _both_  get care afterwards. You went through as much as I did. And even if I came harder, you came more. Your body has to hurt. I don’t have much strength in my hands still, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

He didn’t respond and her arm rose again, poised to flick his eye (not that was looking where she aimed).

“Fine, mercy!” He laughed and swatted her hand aside, “My lower back is killing me.”

“Up and over.” Elain managed to push herself aside and land on the bench. Azriel settled in front of her and tipped forward to rest his head on the faucet.

Elain poked and prodded at his back for a moment before twisting one of Azriel’s hands behind him, “Heat.” He obliged, sending his magic back into his own aching muscles.

Her fingers were boney and merciless, but she dug deeper than he could and had a knack for working aches out from the root. They often gave each other massages after a long day, so Azriel waited patiently and endured the agony of her tiny fingers until Elain planted her palm in the middle of his back and said “Straight.”

Her body shuddered again at the energy it took to brace against Azriel’s stretch. She felt a series of pops beneath her palm- but not enough. Elain gave a hard shove and felt something shift. All Azriel had to do was roll his hips for the final bone to crack into place. He groaned as he tipped forward and landed face-first in the water, where he rested a moment before surfacing.

“All better?”

“All better.” Azriel turned and kissed his wife.

He felt a ripple along their bond at the simple gesture- the yawning of a great beast. Elain smiled, and something glittered back to life in her eyes, “Ready for some light spooning?”

“If I have to be,” he sighed.

Elain forced her legs beneath her and stood. Azriel’s massage had done wonders to help her muscles recover, but she was still too weak to move much before the echo hit again, “Help me walk?”

Azriel groaned as he stood and discovered that his thighs hurt, “Only if you’ll help me.”

Together the pair ambled out of the tub and back to their bed.

“Next time we  _finish_  with domination,” Elain moaned as she fell into the mattress.

“Deal.”

Elain’s back pressed against Azriel’s chest and she parted her legs only far enough for him to slip into her. She rested her head on the crook of his elbow as he reached across her chest and took a breast in his large hand.

“It’s amazing how hard you are, even after all of  _that_.” Elain let Azriel hold her thigh for leverage while she took care of her knot.

“What can I say? You inspire me.” He laughed against her neck and basked in the radiant love shining through his soul.

“Did you figure out what your anniversary present was yet?” she turned her head to look into his eyes.

Azriel frowned. His hips slowed and he spun Elain so that she was facing him. It was no more difficult to enter her this way than the other, and he was seated again within seconds. He stared into Elain’s eyes, trying to read her.

“What did you do?” he said at last.

Elain pouted, “I gave you your anniversary gift last night and you didn’t even notice. You’ve already broken it in and everything.”

She’d never seen him so confused.

“Top drawer, my nightstand.”

They were close enough to her side of the bed that Azriel only had to shift slightly. He retrieved a glass bottle about as big as his hand. Azriel popped the cork from the top and sniffed it- no scent. He cast his mind back and only found one questionable moment from the day before, “You dropped butter and sugar in my throat, then gave me a glass of water-“

“-but only after I took a drink for myself.” Elain’s eyes glittered, “What happened next?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged as best he could in the position. “We ate dinner and-“

“You ate a meal I prepared?” she said. Azriel nodded, “And then what? What did we do? Did anything… unusual happen?”

“We went for a walk and then came home.” The spymaster’s shadows were stroking Elain now, trying to read what he couldn’t see.

“Is that all that happened?” Elain smiled innocently. “Nothing happened at all on the walk?”

He considered it, even as his shadows told him nothing was wrong. His mate was well and resting comfortably in his arms, “We saw Nevanthi who-“ the words died in his throat.

His shadows told him- they said the female in his arms was his-

_The Cauldron blesses this union._

Nevanthi had said those words after her magic reached into both Azriel and Elain. After those words Elain was downright  _giddy_.

Azriel’s vision swam and he covered his mouth with a shaking hand. He couldn’t stop the quiver in his chin as his shadows read Elain over and over again- each time coming back to tell him that his  _mate_ was alright.

She brushed a tear from the bridge of Azriel’s nose, smiling with radiant joy. “Amren found a passage in the Book of Breathings before the Hybern attack about the first mates to walk this earth. They were fae who shared a drink from the Cauldron itself. I reached out to Lucien and warned him about what I was going to do. I also had Miryam and Drakon send him some water, for whichever female he chooses to spend his life with.  Nevanthi passed her exams three weeks ago and I begged her training priestess to teach her the magic to confirm a bond. She was surprisingly understanding when I said that I was trying to surprise  _you_. You’re so suspicious of everything.”

Elain laughed and a tear slipped from her own eyes, “You don’t have to be afraid of my mating bond anymore, Azriel. I only have one mate in this world-  _you_. The only male I could ever love.”

He didn’t know what to say or do, so he pulled Elain tight against his chest and kissed her with every last bit of hope and love she brought into his life. In one devious little plot Elain had taken his greatest nightmare- that he would one day lose her to her mate- and rendered it impossible.

She had given him a miracle.

No-  _she_  was the miracle.

“I love you,” his voice cracked and he kissed Elain once more.

“I love you too, my handsome, kind, perfect mate.”

Azriel shivered. A broad grin spread across his face, “Say it again.”

She knew which part he wanted to hear- the words he never thought would be for him, “You are my mate, and I will love you forever.”

He shifted his hips, drawing a groan from Elain, “Again? Please?”

As the mating frenzy pulled them under once more, Elain held Azriel close and whispered those precious words over and over again.

They both thought they had known paradise in their last year together.

It was nothing compared to the centuries that lay before them.


	3. Manorian Edition

**One Year in Heaven (Manorian Edition)**

Dorian made his way through the crowded streets of Rifthold and silently prayed for mercy from those around him.

The king wore the face of a travelling merchant he once knew- with a few augmentations in case any of the man’s friends or family chanced across his path. As Dorian had discovered one spring afternoon copying a face outright could lead to rather unfortunate situations. In his case the man whose face he’d borrowed turned out to be in some serious gambling debt.

Now Dorian kept four or five faces in his mind and simply let his power decide which aspects of what face would be copied. When he really wanted to go unnoticed, he pulled out one of the dresses that now graced his closet and donned a female form. Thanks to Chaol his personal guard knew their King could change faces, but he’d threatened his best friend on pain of death to keep it secret that he could also change genders or even species.

A man needed his secrets after all.

Anonymity was a blessing to the young king, but a curse in a crowd. He could hardly see around the parcels that were stacked in his arms. A web of magic protected his coin from wandering hands, but if he dropped the boxes he didn’t know how he would ever pick them up again. 

People got out of the way of a King, but they apparently did everything they could to block another commoner’s path.

Dorian hissed as a laughing male collided with his arm. The packages shifted dangerously before he had the situation under control. 

Five more blocks.

He just had to survive five more blocks and the crowd would thin as they reached the sprawling estates of Rifthold’s elite. Dorian bit his lip as he fought the trembling in his arms and cursed himself for not choosing a form with more muscle. 

_ One more step… good, now just one more step… one more step… _

Dorian’s arms burned as he tricked his feet into moving forward a single step at a time. He fought both against his exhaustion and his own instinct to clutch the bottom box tighter and tighter. The last thing Dorian needed was for the side of the box to be crushed inward, destabilizing the entire tower.

He was so focused on his task that Dorian never noticed when the crowd abruptly disappeared. It wasn’t until he stumbled on an uneven bit of cobblestone that he realized he was no longer boxed in by a throng of people. Dorian strained his neck up over the load in his arms and took in the blessed sight of the estate district.

Sprawling manor homes lined the streets. Most were half-destroyed by the Irontooth witch attack, but the distant  _ thump _ of hammers spoke of renovation and revitalization. The section he was in was relatively obscure, but a few blocks to the east were four estates- an entire block- being converted into the official Terrasinean embassy. The block next to it would house the diplomatic offices for the newly formed Witch Kingdom. 

Dorian was headed towards a sprawling estate near the palace’s rear walls. It had been spared the more serious damage many of the other areas of Rifthold saw- most of the destruction was thanks to its proximity to the glass wall as the witches brought it down. Once he’d cleared the shards and debris from that away there were only minor repairs to be completed.

He turned the corner and breathed a sigh of relief at the splash of blue in the distance. A low hedge of hydrangea that was backed by a gray stone fence- his destination. Behind it a green lawn stretched towards the manor itself.

He’d chosen an estate with a distinct “U” shape that backed towards the castle walls. There were nearly a dozen bedrooms, a full library, two kitchens, offices, more parlors than he knew what to do with, and a fairly large stable, all positioned around what had once been a lovely garden. 

While he balked at the sheer size of the estate, Dorian chose it with one thing in mind-

Abraxos.

The central garden was large enough (once it was gutted in favor of a grass lawn) for Manon’s wyvern to stretch out comfortably. On the other side of the castle wall were the Rifthold stables where Abraxos landed to drop off Manon- and from a distance it was next to impossible to see that he simply touched down on the wrong side of the wall. The second floor of the estate offered further protection from curious eyes.

Yes, Dorian was a King and had an entire palace at his disposal, but he needed a residence of his own. Something to keep him grounded as the courtiers and their petty little dramas threatened to smother him. He’d wanted a simple apartment- like what Aelin kept as an assassin- but Abraxos tended to draw too much attention.

“Do you need help?”

“From you? Always,” exhausted as he was, Dorian couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face at the sight of Manon. He thought she was beautiful the day they met, but she’d only grown more radiant in the months of peace since Erawan’s fall.

Though her loss still weighed upon her soul, Manon had found happiness in building her new kingdom. She was light on her feet as she crossed the front walk and opened the gate for Dorian to step through. The scent of food followed her from the house and his stomach growled loudly.

“Give me these, weakling,” Manon plucked the boxes from Dorian’s arms and hurried back into the estate to place them on a low table.

He groaned and dramatically fell to his knees- then landed on his face in the grass of the front lawn. Just before hitting the soft green carpet Dorian managed to summon the magic to change back into his regular form.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that heavy,” he could practically hear Manon rolling her eyes.

“Are you kidding?” Dorian said to the earth, “You try walking across the damn city carrying it and then let me know how you feel.”

Manon nudged his shoulder with her boot and Dorian rolled over, “I’d just fly there. You’d be surprised how quickly people make room for Abraxos.”

“Well I could hardly turn myself into a pack mule, could I?”

“You absolutely could,” Manon stepped over him and then sat down so that she was straddling Dorian’s hips. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Well- yeah, but I didn’t think of it so-” he stuck out his tongue.

“Gods- every time i forget how young you are…”

“Cradle-robber.”

“Crone-cuddler.”

“That’s not a thing,” Dorian teased before sitting up and wrapping his arms around Manon’s torso. “Oh, happy anniversary, by the way.”

Manon snorted, “You call me a cradle-robber and then wish us a happy anniversary?”

“Would you have it any other way?”

She considered it a moment, “No.”

On the front lawn of their shared home, in the heat of the summer sun, Manon stroked Dorian’s face. She stared deep into his eyes- just as she had exactly one year ago when she pushed back the Valg and saved a vital part of his soul, “Hello princeling.”

“Hello witchling,” Dorian whispered before Manon’s lips met his. It was a soft, tender kiss. Open and inviting, but without any intention to wake desire or claim their partner. He couldn’t hold her as tightly as he wished thanks to the weakness in his arms, but Manon wound her fingers into his hair and kept him locked against her lips.

Too soon, she released him and stood, “Come on, I had dinner delivered. It’s keeping warm on the stove.”

“Where’s my best friend?” Dorian stood and followed Manon into the estate. The back wall of the entryway was dotted with large windows, but there was no sign of Abraxos in the yard.

“He wanted to go hunting in the lowlands. He’ll be back by tomorrow morning,” Manon arrived in Rifthold while Dorian was picking up their joint anniversary gift from the shop, so he didn’t get to see her mount. 

Abraxos had a special love-hate relationship with Dorian’s wyvern form. They were competitive as hell but seemed to be friends. Abraxos had been lonely since the loss of the Thirteen, and while he had a new crush on one of the Yellowlegs wyverns, Dorian was his only male friend.

“I’ll challenge him to a race while he’s fed and exhausted. It pisses him off when I win,” Dorian smiled.

Manon grinned wickedly as she walked back towards the kitchen, “Oh, I intend for you to be too exhausted come morning to shift.”

Dorian followed with a predatory grin. As he walked past the damned boxes he’d carried across the city, he ran a finger along the side of the longest package at the bottom. Manon heard the scrape of his nail across paper and goosebumps rose on her arms.

They picked the items out together on Manon’s last visit and would spend the next few days breaking them in.

“I ordered Kabsa from that new Southern Continent restaurant. Yrene says it’s pretty authentic,” a heady aroma of garlic, cinnamon, and at least a dozen other spices filled the first floor of their estate. 

Dorian’s stomach growled again, louder this time, “Obviously I’m not hungry at all.”

“Obviously,” Manon led Dorian into the kitchen where two covered clay plates were sitting over a low flame on their stovetop. He sent a blast of wind to put out the fire and used his magic to move the plates over to the table as Manon grabbed twin cups of water.

His eyes widened as he lifted the covers off their plates. Chicken thighs neatly browned and seasoned were sitting on a bed of pan-fried vegetables and a fluffy, brown rice. Slivers of garlic and boiled raisins covered the food.

“I’m moving to the Southern Continent,” Dorian informed Manon as he sat down and picked up a fork.

“Don’t schedule the movers until you’ve tried it-” Manon sat in her own chair and quickly speared a bit of chicken. It pulled away from the bone with little resistance. She took a single bite before cursing, “tell Sartaq I’m coming too.”

The dish was warm rather than spicy, with garlic, saffron, cinnamon, allspice, and cardamom all warring for attention over softer, more subtle flavors Dorian couldn’t place. The sweetness of raisin mixed into the dish added a soft burst of flavor that filled every taste bud from front to back- a perfect balance.

Manon pulled at the chicken skin until a large section tore off- flavorful and soft from boiling in spices. Dorian was the consummate princeling- he sliced his chicken skin so that each bite of meat had a bit of seasoning. Pockets of flavor erupted on their tongues as they chewed. The spices themselves had been largely strained away before the dish was put together, but a few stubborn bits were trapped beneath the skin. Tangy, spicy, and even a little sweet thanks to the raisins- their mouths were blinded by flavor in the best way possible.

“This is incredible,” Dorian managed some words before launching into the vegetables and rice. Carrots, mushroom, potatoes, cauliflower, and zucchini all mellowed the seasoning building in his mouth, cleansing his pallet before he got to the rice.

Nothing in all of Erilea could compare to sitting beside Manon in a home all their own, eating good food together, and just basking in one another’s presence.

“It feels like it’s been ten years,” Manon sighed as Dorian took her hand from across the table.

“It was probably the worst first year any couple could- nope. Nevermind. Rowan and Aelin’s was worse,” he corrected himself immediately. “It was hell, but we were lucky to have each other.”

“We were lucky to  _ keep _ each other. Maybe if this next year goes well I’ll make an honest man out of you,” Manon wondered aloud as she took a bite of rice.

Dorian acted offended, “And what makes you just  _ assume _ I’ll say yes? I’m not an easy man.”

“Oh please, you probably already have the rings picked out,” she’d given him some grief early on about his desire to marry her after mere months of courtship, but lately the jokes had lost their edge and sounded more and more like a promise.

Dorian did have the rings as a matter of fact, but he’d hidden them away in a place where Manon couldn’t find them. He wasn’t giving her ammo to tease him with.

Of course, back in her residence at the heart of the new Witch Kingdom, she had rings as well.

“How long after a meal do we need to wait to have sex?” Manon’s question was timed so that Dorian was halfway through swallowing his food. He choked and she smiled innocently, “What about a walk when we’re done?”

“I was thinking about taking a cold shower first,” Dorian muttered.

“A cold shower, a walk, and then we start our anniversary celebrations?” Manon finished off her rice and pushed the plate away.

“Sounds like a plan,” Dorian still had a few bites of dinner left, but he released Manon’s hand so that she could go change out of her riding leathers into something more comfortable.

The covered plates their food came on belonged to the restaurant itself. Dorian finished off his food and rinsed both sets before carrying them out to a white postbox built into the garden wall. He left the door open so that the delivery boy could easily find the dishes whenever he came around again and jogged back into the house.

While Manon bathed upstairs, Dorian slipped into a downstairs bathroom to rinse off the sweat from his trek across the city. His arms were beginning to forgive him, but washing his hair was still difficult.

He dressed with clothes hanging in the downstairs laundry and brewed twin mugs of tea while he waited. Manon was the one who spent the day flying over from the Witch Kingdom. Dorian had an easy morning finalizing several open-border policies with Terrasen (the first steps towards a free and united Erilea) and then had his hike through the city. He didn’t have to bathe as much as freshen up.

Eventually he heard Manon’s shoes upon the staircase and scooped up their drinks, “Black tea?”

“Absolutely,” Manon said. Her wet hair was combed straight back and she wore a white linen shirt with brown leather pants. For the most part when they walked through Rifthold she would be in full Witch regalia- including her red cloak. So long as their corner of the estate district was in ruins though, she could get away with a more casual form of dress. Only Chaol and Yrene lived in the area.

They walked shoulder-to-shoulder, catching up on what all had transpired in the two weeks since she was last in Rifthold. Next it would be Dorian’s turn to fly to the Witch Kingdom, or perhaps another meeting in the small country home they’d found abandoned between their two lands.

Manon voiced her frustrations as they walked. She was dealing with the headache that was building on former swamp-land (the curse lifting helped get rid of the worst of the creatures, but the soil was still too soft for traditional structures), some spats had arisen between Crochans and Irontooth neighbors, and she was waiting on fae civil engineers from Terrasen to arrive and help sort out the new capitol’s sewer system. 

Dorian didn’t offer any advice- that wasn’t what Manon needed. She needed to rant and lament the passing of simpler days when she was a lone Irontooth wandering the countryside looking for people to kill. Nearly every facet of his and Aelin’s governments had witches shadowing their officials. They were training them as quickly as possible in tax policy, justice systems, city planning, education- even in areas as simple as plumbing and infrastructure.

It was going to take time for the new Witch Kingdom to establish itself properly, until then Adarlan and Terrasen just did what they could. They considered it all repayment of the Thirteen’s sacrifice.

The couple wound their way through the empty streets and even wandered into abandoned homes as they wished. Dorian loved the potential in each space. The bodies of the dead had long since been collected, and most of their possessions were long gone, but the bones of the houses remained. Just as the bones of Rifthold gave him hope that one day his city would recover from Erawan and his father’s reigns.

Long after their tea ran out and Manon’s hair was dry, the couple turned back towards home. The sun was low in the sky, bathing their world in shades of red and gold. Dorian ran a hand through Manon’s white hair and marveled at the way the colors combined. 

His fierce witch, a female who took what she wanted without apology, and yet he was the only one allowed to touch her with any familiarity. She was content to be his, as he was content to be hers. One day they would bind themselves together for eternity, but for now- and for a few years to come- they were happy as they were.

“Thank you for waking me up,” Dorian leaned in close and kissed her.

Manon stroked the pale skin around his throat- the scar of that horrible collar, “Thank you for still being there to wake.”

The sun vanished behind the Westfall house, sending long shadows across their front lawn. Chaol and Yrene called a ‘hello’ from the far end of the block- off on their weekly date night while his mother and Terrin watched baby Josefin.

“Your Majesty,” Dorian opened their front gate and bowed. Manon couldn’t suppress her grin as she stepped through and he jogged around her to open the other door.

“Come up with a different tile,” she warned as she made her way forward.

“Slayer of Erawan.”

“That was you and Yrene,” Manon stepped into their home.

Dorian raised a finger, “Ah, but I wouldn’t have been there if not for you. So really it was your victory.”

“I’ll let Aelin know we can remove you from the statues then,” she winked. Orynth, the new Witch Kingdom capitol, Rifthold, Doranelle, and Yrene’s home-village in Fenharrow were all to receive identical monuments to the defeat of both Maeve and Erawan.

They’d all kept secret from Manon the design of the memorial to her Thirteen and their wyverns, but Dorian already spent a week sitting for an artist wearing the form of each of his fallen friends and described their mounts as best he could. The statues within their memorial would be perfect.

“I want to be on the hero-statue too,” he pouted.

“Maybe if you’re a good little king I’ll allow it,” Manon turned and walked towards Dorian, pushing him into the still-open door until it clicked shut. She brushed her lips against his and grinned at the way his heart raced beneath her palm.

Dorian sighed appreciatively as Manon leaned in to nip his bottom lip, then pushed her away so that he could set the mugs down, “Ready to see how the order turned out?”

“If it isn’t perfect I’ll have Abraxos destroy the building.”

Dorian and Manon were frequent customers of the adult accessory store where they made their purchase. The owners kept their prices reasonable and the quality as high as possible (especially for their King). Dorian never picked up their order without some form of disguise, but that was more for discretion sake. 

He loved his people, but that didn’t mean he wanted them to see him ordering cock rings or anal plugs to enjoy with the Queen of another kingdom.

As Manon un-boxed a set of filigree nipple clamps with a leather bit (so that she could hold them between her teeth), Dorian’s hand slid down her backside to deliver a quick squeeze. He felt something hard shift under his palm and snickered, “I thought you were walking a bit straighter than usual.”

“I put it in after the shower,” Manon turned to bat her eyelashes.

“Did you remember to start the hourglass? We don’t want to have to go to Yrene because you left it in too long again,” it was days before she could sit comfortably after that episode. Manon loved her rear plug, but when left in too long it caused problems.

She smacked him in the chest, “Of course I did, nag.”

Dorian shrugged and grabbed another box from the pile- one that held a leather collar edged in opal lace with a metal loop in the middle, “This one is yours, dear.” He barely suppressed the shiver that wracked his body. Manon wanted to try it- to enjoy the feeling of the leather around her throat. It looked nothing like a valg collar, but he felt cold all the same.

“Are you sure you’re alright with me wearing this?” Manon put a hand on his arm. He’d avoided even looking at the display in the shop.

“I’ll be fine. I just keep imagining it being on me and-” Dorian shook his head. “Once it’s on you, it won’t be a problem.” He couldn’t explain it, but seeing gold collars on the ladies of his court didn’t bother him in the slightest, it was just when they were sitting on their own that his blood chilled.

Dorian quickly opened another box. Manon wasn’t one to push, so she dropped the issue and set the collar on the edge of the hall table along with her nipple clamps. The two were soon joined by a black satin blindfold edged in the same opal lace as her collar, a matching set of padded cuffs for her legs and arms, a satin flogger with a long, smooth handle that could double as a false cock, and two new leashes for bedroom play- one long, one short. The longest (and most heavy) box contained a black metal spreading bar with loops on either end to clip the restraints to.

In addition to their new set of accessories, Dorian and Manon had placed separate orders for lingerie. They were marked with either a red ribbon (for hers) or a blue one (for his). The pair exchanged their gifts and, keeping an eye on their partner, pulled out their new undergarments. 

For Manon, Dorian selected the same black-and-opal color scheme as her accessories. Her breasts were to be left largely exposed, but with a web of lace to push them together and hold them up in presentation. A barely-there girdle would sit around her stomach and give Dorian and extra handle to grip as he thrust into her. No panties accompanied the ensemble, but a thin garter belt sat beneath everything and connected to thigh-length black tights.

The box for Dorian had satin pants that would come to his knees. Opal ribbons wound in stages through eyelets on the inside seam all the way up through the crotch of the pants. He was confused for a moment before realizing the purpose behind them- Manon would be able to remove the ties with her tongue.

Even the mental image of the act was enough to make him hard.

“Dorian?” Manon touched the pants, “I want you in those in ten minutes.”

“Only if you’re wearing all the rest,” he grabbed her chin and offered a long, hard kiss.

She growled when he pulled away, “You’re playing dominant tonight.”

“Okay, but tomorrow don’t let me cum until I forget my own name.” He couldn’t play submissive in the same way Manon did- his traumas were still too close to the surface- but he loved how well she could keep him pinned to the edge.

“Deal. I’ll go get changed,” Manon scooped up their new toys and ran upstairs with Dorian on her heels. She deposited the accessories on their bed before hurrying through a side door.

While she got ready in the privacy of their bathroom, Dorian went around the room, attaching cuffs and ropes to hooks hidden in the ceiling and around their bed. As he finished hanging the longer leash, she came out at last.

He moaned at the sight of her. She’d tightened each strap so that the clothing hugged her as a second skin. The collar was in place and- as predicted- no longer bothered him. Her breasts were peaked and pushed together, emphasizing their size. Each areola was delicately pink- a perfect match to the lipstick she’d applied. Between her legs, Manon was freshly waxed and Dorian’s pants tightened at the thought of that soft skin against his lips.

“Where do I start?” Her question wasn’t part of their play- that would start after Dorian changed. Still, she felt a pulse in her core at the smoldering lust in his gaze.

“On your knees,” his voice was rough as he pointed to the floor beside their bed.

Manon obeyed while Dorian gathered the accessories from their bed. He flicked at her breasts until satisfied that her nipples were ready, then pinched the clamps on and tightened them only enough to hold against the weight of the chain. As Dorian moved on to sort out the other restraints, Manon tightened them herself.

“Ready for the cuffs?” he asked.

“One thing really quick.” She grabbed his hand and directed it to the leather grip at the center of her chain. Dorian pinched it and she pulled his hand up slowly until she winced, “That’s maximum.” Manon set the boundary when the grip was nearly eye-level.

“Wow, that far? Alright.” Dorian pointed to one of the clips, “If anything starts hurting too much, your safe word will unlock those. As for the cuffs-“ he gathered Manon’s hands behind her and strapped on the thick leather. Dorian took her pointer fingers and showed her where the emergency release was, “Got it?”

“Got it. And the legs?” She glanced back as Dorian pushed the spreader bar into place. He supported her with a hand on her chest as she leaned forward and angled her foot into the manacle at the end.

“There is a notch in the center, it will be right beneath your hands. Just find that and push. It will pull your legs in slowly, then pop open. Nothing too sudden. If your hands are above you, just roll your feet in opposite directions three times.”

Manon was there for the safety discussion when they made their order, but with the type of play she and Dorian enjoyed, it was never a bad idea to go over everything again. He loved watching her struggle to grant herself an orgasm, but he would never restrict her movement against her will.

He pulled Manon’s hair up half way and tied it off with a strip of leather, “Ready?”

“Ready- but kiss me before you go change.”

“Before I get into character?” Dorian snorted. He kissed each of Manon’s eyelids before sliding the blindfold into place. He pulled the top half of her hair through the band so that it sat across the middle of her head, then tightened the strap down slowly- mindful of any hairs that found their way into the clasp. Only when he was sure he would be able to pull it off without scalping her did Dorian undo the tie on her hair and let it all fall down once more.

“A proper kiss,” Dorian rested his forehead against hers and slowly dipped his chin until their lips touched. Manon’s lips moved against his and he smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Dorian left her there in darkness to wait for his return. All she could do was smile as she imagined what he would do to her. She was especially looking forward to the flogger.

Manon shuddered in anticipation as the start of their game drew closer. A grin tugged at her lips as she thought about what was to come. Her heart raced each time that sweet little King toyed with her darkness.

“What are you grinning at?”

Manon hissed in surprise and nearly fell over. Dorian had somehow slipped across the room without her even hearing him. His voice was a whisper against the curve of her ear- no matter their familiarity, it sent a jolt of fear through her.

He caught Manon as she tipped to the side and roughly straightened her, then put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Guess what I found in the bathroom?” His voice was low, cold.

“What?” she frowned. She hadn’t left anything in there when she changed. Her clothes were folded neatly on a small shelf. It was the proper place- Manon and Dorian both had their own for clothes they did not need to worry about washing yet.

A hand clamped around her throat immediately and Manon gasped. He was well within her tolerance, but the action surprised her, “What–?” he waited for her to finish.

“What  _ sir _ ?” Manon asked, breathless.

“Better, witch.” Dorian released her. As much as Manon enjoyed letting him dominate her, he loved the thrill of danger that stirred in his soul. Originally she’d asked him to call her ‘pet’, but it made him hard to know such a powerful female was letting him have his fun.

Manon waited in darkness, her heart thundering. She dug her nails into her palm to fight the smile back from her lips.

Something touched Manon’s cheek and she jumped again. It was hard and cool. He was just barely holding it against her skin and before she could figure out what it was, he began to spin the object. Dorian showed Manon the shape of whatever she’d left, “The sooner you guess, the less trouble you’ll be in.”

The edge vanished from her face and reappeared moments later on her breast where it swirled around a nipple. She couldn’t figure out what it was. At least, not until he rested it sideways against her breast and she felt the way the cold sides angled inwards.

Dorian leaned in to whisper in Manon’s ear, repeating what he’d said before they left on their walk. “This hourglass takes four hours to run out, and yet here it is. Not a grain of sand left in the top. That didn’t feel like a four-hour stroll to me.”

She’d forgotten.

_ Shit. _

“I’m sorry, I forgot… sir.” She’d never hear the end of it.

Dorian set the hourglass aside and touched a finger to Manon’s chest, warning her silently where he was going. She braced herself as he grabbed the chain between her nipples and tugged, hauling her up so that she was forced to sit up on her knees and expose her rear, “That hourglass is for your own safety. You could hurt yourself leaving it in too long.”

Manon whimpered as the clamps yanked at her nipples, but bolts of electricity seemed to flash beneath her skin down to her core. 

She didn’t know how she would stand with her hands bound behind her and her legs trapped in the manacles, but she needn’t worry. Once she was up high enough, Dorian’s pull changed direction. He forced her forward and down. Something warm and sturdy caught her across her stomach and Manon realized what he was doing- he was pulling her over his knee.

He would never spank her properly, not in the way she wanted. He considered that too close to beating her no matter what assurances she gave. Still, Manon hoped he would find some way to make it sting.

Dorian dragged his lover forward by her nipple clamps, more than a little thankful that she was blindfolded. He could sound cold and dangerous, but his eyes were fearful. He knew she liked a bit of pain with her pleasure almost as much as he did.

_ Do this properly for her. _

Truth be told, the hourglass was still around half-full, and running as it should be. He just needed something to help him set the tone. Now that he had a beginning point for their play, he would simply let it take its course.

Dorian’s hand slipped down Manon’s back towards the firm curve of her exquisite ass. Exposed by her new position was her birthday present- a red-black crystal attached to a small metal shaft that vanished into his lover’s rear. Manon’s favorite little toy, right where she liked it.

Dorian squeezed her soft skin and circled the metal shaft with his thumb. He pulled at the entrance, stretching it back out and readying it for what he had planned. Manon began to breathe harder as he aroused her body until Dorian finally slid the toy from her backside. 

The thin rod opened after an inch or so into a large teardrop-shaped bulb. Her puckered skin stretched wide as he quickly and smoothly pulled it from her.

Manon came with a shuddering cry. Pain and pleasure crashed into one another and her body didn’t know which to feel. All she knew was that it made her hot. She was the one shaking with orgasm, but it felt as if something in Dorian was stirring.

When he snuck into the room to surprise Manon he’d brought with him the plug’s container, now filled with cleaning solution. He quickly deposited the toy inside before grabbing the back of Manon’s neck and yanking her up off his knee, “Who said you could come?” His voice was rougher even than before, and his satin pants were agonizingly tight.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Manon gasped.

“WHO SAID YOU COULD COME?!” 

“No one, sir.” Her thighs were shaking as she fell back down to sit on her feet. They couldn’t close with the spreader as open as it was, and the scent of her climax quickly filled the room.

Dorian loosed a primal growl, “So then why did you,  _ witch _ ?”

“I couldn’t help it. I’ll do better, sir. I promise.” Even as her mind sunk into the role she was to play, a part of her was grinning viciously. She’d disemboweled males who’d tried to make her speak in such a way, but so long as it was a game it was… fun.

“You’ll do better? Prove it,” Dorian grabbed Manon’s chin and pulled her face down to the side of his knee where the satin lace of his pants began. “Take them off. And don’t you dare use your hands.”

Manon’s lips brushed against his leg and Dorian forced himself to swallow his moan. It was taking every ounce of control to keep from throwing her on the bed and burying himself in her until they were both incapable of movement. Everything in him- body and soul- was ready to pounce.

Her tongue against his skin made Dorian harder. He had to even the score with Manon and  _ fast _ .

She delivered soft kisses and scraped her teeth against his skin as she pulled the laces out one by one. No ribbon was more than a few inches long, and after only a couple loops Manon held an opal tie in her teeth.

“Where would you like me to put this, sir?” She asked around the lace.

“Spit it on the floor, witch.”

“Yes, sir.” She did as she was told.

“Keep it even,” Dorian snapped when Manon turned back to the same leg. 

It took her a moment to find his other leg, but she rose up on her knees and set to work again on his pants. Inch by inch, her lips and tongue moved closer to his bulging crotch. Manon would reach his testicles first, then kiss her way up and around the front of his member to undo the final tie.

At the first touch of her lips against the delicate flesh beneath his length, Dorian growled and grabbed her hair in a fist. He pushed her against him and controlled her speed, savoring the feeling of her mouth as she took his balls one at a time. With the tie gone she sucked them into her mouth and massaged each with her tongue. Back and forth Manon went, making sure neither was neglected. Her lover had resisted shaving especially for her, and she moaned as his stubble scraped against her face.

As soon as he felt his body tighten, Dorian yanked Manon’s hair and pulled her further up the pants to turn her attentions once more on those pesky ties.

She couldn’t see him staring hard at the ceiling, willing himself to think of anything besides the lips brushing now against his shaft through that thin satin. If he thought about it- or looked down- he would erupt.

Dorian’s breath hitched as Manon’s tongue glanced across the head of his cock. The moment her tongue curled around the top tie he pulled her head away.

“Here is what’s going to happen, witch,” Dorian panted, “you’re going to lay on the bed where I tell you to and suck my cock. If you do it  _ well _ , I will let you touch yourself. If not- or if you give yourself permission to come again- I will tie you to the wall and fuck you until you can’t remember your safe word. Understood?”

He could scent Manon’s answer in the drip of moisture that slipped down the inside of her thigh, “Yes, sir.” Her voice was slightly higher, innocent. She knew it drove him insane, she was trying to make him lose control. Dorian supposed it was only fair- he intended to use every last trick he’d learned in the last year to push her over the edge time and again, until she was begging for mercy.

Dorian undid the clasp between Manon’s cuffs and helped her stand. Her legs were immobilized by the spreader bar, but he simply lifted her beneath her arms and carried her over to the bed, then shoved her roughly across it. She fell with a happy purr and immediately stretched out her arms. Dorian circled the bed and connected her wrist cuffs to the straps meant for her right arm and leg. She opened her mouth wide, ready, but nothing came.

Manon waited in darkness and listened for some hint of Dorian’s steps. She didn’t dare close her mouth. Minutes ticked by and the pounding in her core only increased. Her climax when Dorian ripped the plug from her left her body hungry and aching for something else to fill it.

A finger traced her lips at long last, “Remember, do a good job and you’ll get a reward. Act without my permission and I will make sure you can’t walk right for a week. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir. I’ll do my best.”

Manon was pulled towards the edge of the bed, until her head was completely off the mattress. Dorian’s thumb circled her lips once more as he gently stroked his cock. When she rolled her hips- a sign that her body was aching for him- he pushed forward and replaced his thumb with the head of his cock.

She sucked at it as best she could, and Dorian pushed forward slowly. He used the same gentle roll of his hips as when he fucked her properly. Anything less and she would have trouble accepting him in her throat. His eyelids grew heavy at the sensation of her lips and teeth along his shaft at last.

He knew how far she could take him in this position, and Dorian paused once he’d reached her maximum, “This is mine.” He grabbed the leather of her nipple clamps and pulled it slowly up her chest, along her throat, and over her chin.

Her body jerked against the various restraints as the vicious pressure of the clamps sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain. Dorian stopped the chain when it was level with her lips, giving him only a few inches of room. He locked his arm in place and pulled out of Manon’s mouth. With just the tip was in, he adjusted where he held the length of leather so that it was parallel with her eyes- the limit she’d set.

Manon squealed around his cock as he began to thrust in and out of her mouth, yanking the clamps with each retreat. The scent of arousal grew and he smiled, “You like this, don’t you little witch?”

“Yes, sir!” she gasped the next time he pulled out, then opened her mouth wide to accept him again.

The hollowing of her cheeks every time he pulled out was Dorian’s favorite sight, but he couldn’t deny that he also took pleasure in the way her throat rippled as he pushed into it. He made sure his pace allowed her a breath between thrusts, and paid close attention to the position of the nipple chains, lest he accidentally move them too far.

“Bend your knees.” Dorian ordered. The roughness in his voice wasn’t entirely feigned.

Manon obeyed in an instant.

“Good. Now, open your hand. When I release you, I want you to rub your clit with what I give you.”

Her hand snapped open in an instant. Dorian maintained his thrusts, but reached over and grabbed a smooth stone rod from her collection of insertables. He sent his power trickling into it. The stone chilled rapidly until it was nearly frozen.

Manon’s long, low moan when the icy toy touched her hand was almost enough to make Dorian erupt. He unclipped her wrist and- as instructed- in a moment she was swirling the frigid toy around that knot at the apex of her thighs.

“Remember, witch: You only get to come when I say.” Dorian patted Manon’s cheek as he thrust in and she did her best to nod.

The next time Dorian pulled out, Manon momentarily took the cold rod off of her body to push his hand back against his stomach- a few inches higher than the original maximum she’d set for that chain. Manon’s breathing was ragged with both pain and desire, but she didn’t move her hand back between her legs until Dorian’s own relaxed flat against his abdomen.

Order received.

She returned to swirling the stone cock through her lower lips and around her knot, and slowly Dorian resumed his motion. He gave Manon time to change her mind if she needed to- but she was considerably more warmed up now than she had been when she first set the limit. Her cries as he pulled out were more pronounced, but so were her deep moans of approval. Manon’s hips ground into the bed as she pushed the toy harder and harder against her clit.

The tremor in her thighs gave her away, “Don’t you dare come,” Dorian said smoothly. Manon whimpered and forced her hand to slow. The cold stone was making her burn ever hotter.

“You almost disobeyed, didn’t you?” He pulled out so that Manon could answer.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, but I promise I didn’t come.”

“You tried to, and that’s enough to earn a punishment.” Dorian took the black leather connector at the center of her nipple chains and began to twist it. As the two ends wrapped around themselves the overall length shortened. Once he was satisfied, Dorian slid the black leather connection into Manon’s collar. It sat wider than the metal loop, locking it into place.

“I’m not going to be gentle anymore. Keep that stone between your legs and we’ll see if you’re still feeling rebellious.” He saw Manon shiver in anticipation as she opened her mouth and took his cock once more.

He thrust into her mouth harder and faster. Her breasts swung with the motion- or tried to. Every time he pulled himself forward on her shoulders the chain went suddenly tight and she squealed against his shaft. It was a sharp, relentless bite that she could not control as Dorian used her body for leverage.

Manon’s hand shuddered as she fought her orgasm back. She lost the stone, but there was no picking it up again. Dorian reached out and delivered a sharp swat to her clit (though nothing harder than he had done in past games). That would be her only punishment for dropping the toy.

“Swallow every drop,” he ground out, then pushed one last time into her throat.

Manon shuddered as Dorian erupted. If she still had the toy between her legs nothing would have stopped her from coming.

Dorian loosed a soft, deep cry as Manon took his release expertly. He pulled back with heavy steps, giving her more room while he stroked as much of his cock as he could touch. 

She couldn’t swallow fast enough, not in that position, and so Manon just held her mouth open and let Dorian slowly pull himself free. She was breathing hard through her nose. As soon as he was out he quickly undid the other restraint on her and tipped her up by her shoulders so that he supported her weight on his chest and made her job easier.

For now, at least, his cock hung limp.

She finished swallowing and Dorian passed her a small cup of water to help rinse her mouth.

“I dropped my toy, sir.” Manon gasped, “I’m sorry.”

“You received your punishment for that already.” He slid her chains back out of the collar.

She sighed when the tension in her breasts vanished, “Thank you, sir.”

Dorian’s smile was soft as he traced Manon’s lips again. What did he want next? How would he torment her in that wicked, perfect way they enjoyed?

“We’re going to play another game. One you won’t like.” He knelt and adjusted so that Manon’s head rested on his shoulder. She was still propped up slightly, and Dorian pulled her wrist over to reconnect it with the restraints. No moving her arms.

“Yes sir,” Manon shivered and tried to clench her thighs. The bar kept her from any relief.

He glanced to her hourglass and used his magic to summon it. With a wave of his hand, he changed how quickly the sand would fall.

“Endure it for five minutes.” Dorian whispered into Manon’s ear as he picked up the abandoned chain from her nipple clamps and slid the black leather grip between her teeth. “And before you ask- no. At no point will you have permission to come. If you accept your punishment well, I’ll grant you a wish.”

Before Manon knew what was happening, Dorian’s fingers were sliding through her soaked folds and pushing into her. She screamed into the chain and threw her head back- yanking at her breasts. The sensation only enhanced that of her lover’s hand. She kicked her legs, struggling against the manacles to throw herself harder against him.

Dorian chuckled, “You sound so lewd.” He bit the curve of her ear lightly and flipped the hourglass. When she remembered she could lift her hips to push against his hand, he slid a bar of air down to pin her to the bed.

Manon was strong, but his magic was stronger.

She grunted and gasped, screamed and thrashed in his grip. Her every movement was contrary to itself- a struggle to push harder into his fingers while also trying to slip them out just a bit- far enough so that he wasn’t rubbing against that textured ridge of flesh that was as strong a stimulant as her knot. If Manon’s mind wasn’t buried in a pleasure-fog she might have given silent thanks that he wasn’t pushing on that as well. She wasn’t sure she could endure without reaching climax.

Dorian watched her intently, adjusting speed and strength as her control faltered. She was clenching his fingers tighter than he thought she was capable of with just her core. Even spread as she was- he began to question if  _ he _ could continue the assault for five minutes.

Sometimes he moved quickly and forcefully, until Manon’s legs began to jerk and she threw back her head in a throaty scream. Other times- when his wrist tired- he slowed and just gently circled the ridged skin of her nerves. 

“You’ve done very well,” he whispered in her ear with nearly a minute left. “But I don’t really want to grant you a wish, so let’s see how you handle this.”

His entire hand was soaked by her juices, so it was simply a matter of angling his ring finger down and then inward.

Manon’s scream was edged in a sob of frustration as Dorian’s finger pressed against her other entrance. The plug she’d worn earlier left her open enough that he slid in with little resistance.

He could hear the words in her cry as clearly as if she’d shouted them properly:  _ Not fair! _ She had thrown every last ounce of her will into ignoring her core as Dorian teased her, but now he curled his ring finger so that it stroked the back of his middle finger with only a thin, sensitive line of flesh separating them.

Dorian grinned at the bright red flush against her cheeks. The move was one Manon lovingly called “The Great Cheat”- something he’d learned set her off in record time, no matter how many climaxes he’d already wrested from her.

Manon’s hips strained against his hand and she threw her head back again- trying to use the pain of her nipple clamps to grant some relief from the agonizing glory between her legs. Dorian knew her eyes would be clenched tight beneath the blindfold. She was trying anything and everything to distract herself.

One minute, she just had to endure one more minute.

“Don’t come witch,” he teased, drawing her attention to his voice and away from whatever she was using to withstand his hand. He slid his thumb up to rest against her knot, drawing another scream of exasperation. Somehow, she tightened her core even harder- which made what he was doing all the more difficult to endure without taking the blessed release.

“Don’t think about my hand between your legs. I’m inside you- and you’re  _ so wet _ . So warm. Doesn’t it feel good?” he whipped his thumb across her knot even as he ramped up the intensity of his touch. He leaned over and nipped at the chain, abruptly tightening the pressure on it. Manon’s hips shot forward against his hand and her useless arms gripped the sheets tight.

She was trapped in a long, enduring scream as she wrestled against her own body’s aching need for release. She was losing herself in the pleasure and her role. A part of herself was shutting down to simply obey the voice at her ear.

“Don’t come,” he repeated, though now he was moving as quickly as he was capable of. Dorian’s arm burned all the way up to his shoulder. He watched the hourglass running out and slid his pinky against his ring finger so that four fingers filled Manon. Her entire body went hard and tense, but she didn’t come.

The last sands ran through.

“Good, my little pet.” Dorian whispered against her ear. His hand abruptly slowed as he slid his fingers from her. He slid his thumb to the space just above her knot- the top ridge of its hood. As soon as his hand was off her abdomen he expected her to move, but that tension remained. She was shaking from it- burning as she tried not to come.

She was  _ visibly _ resisting grinding herself against his thumb.

“What do you wish for? And don’t say you want to come. That’s boring.”

Everything in her body and soul was focused on the thumb above her knot. There was nothing in her world beyond that. Even without the blindfold, Manon wouldn’t have been able to see. She was breathing hard, whimpering and growling with the effort it took to hold her orgasm at bay.

“Witch,” he yanked slightly on the nipple clamps to get her attention, “your master asked what you wanted as your reward. Answer me,  _ now. _ ” The words were slow, drawn out.

She whimpered, but managed just one word, “ _ More _ .” Her voice cracked- she was desperate. She needed his hand back inside her- or perhaps something longer. She needed to feel more pleasure- to have that wave break over her and shatter her very being.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He loosened the restraints on her wrists enough to move Manon across the bed. Dorian circled to the other side and grabbed her hips, dragging her until her feet were on the floor. Her arms were stretched as far as the restraints allowed- there wouldn’t be any opportunity to move. Dorian knew he would have to keep an eye on her hands, just in case the cuffs cut off blood flow.

“Keep the chain in your teeth,” Dorian instructed. He retrieved the hourglass, then planted a foot on the spreader bar to keep her feet locked to the ground. Too much weight and it would bite into the tops of her feet, so he put a hard wall of air beneath the bar to ensure it wouldn’t harm her.

The sounds of her fighting her release combined with the heat and moisture inside her had made him hard. Dorian stroked himself with his still-damp hand. It would take some angling to match his hips with hers, but he needed to be inside his lover.

“You said you wanted more?” he asked.

Manon nodded, “ _ Please sir _ ,” she was completely breathless. Her words were caught in the leather guard of the chain somewhat, but he understood.

“Fine then.” Dorian set the hourglass sand-side-down on her stomach, just beneath her taut breasts, “Five more minutes, and if you let that fall off it becomes fifteen.” She cried at the realization that she had to endure another round without any release.

He grabbed something else on the edge of the bed- the satin flogger, and cracked it against Manon’s side. Something small and hard was in the center of each knot to give it a bit more bite, but only enough of one to make its presence known. It was one of the items Manon chose for herself, so it was his job to use it.

Manon jerked at the snap and cooed as she remembered the toy. While she was distracted, her lover pounced.

The release transferred to his cock coupled with her own dripping wetness was more than enough to facilitate his member as Dorian shoved all the way in in one mighty thrust. Manon screamed into the grip and nearly threw the hourglass off in her surprise. He caught it and used the end to force her arched back down onto the bed.

“Don’t. Let. That. Fall.” He swatted at her with the flog to punctuate each word- strikes to each hip and the underside of her breasts. He used the little display of dominance to grant her the chance to adjust to his length. Manon  _ needed  _ release, and it was only because she was fighting so hard against it still that she did not come the moment Dorian’s cock touched her.

Now, with it inside her, her task was nearly impossible.

“Five minutes- and you can’t come. Starting  _ now _ .” He flipped the hourglass and pulled out until just the tip was inside her heat and warmth, “I’m going to make this unbearable.”

He wholly surrendered to the raging lust in his veins- that demon born of their game. Dorian grabbed Manon’s hips and set a hard, fast rhythm that had him deep inside his lover and grinding against all of her favorite parts. He had to angle low with his hips, and supported most of his weight on one arm near Manon’s midsection.

With every pump into her body the thing in his soul grew stronger. It was his love for Manon- a pure beacon of joy and trust that he had never felt with another woman. He let that love crash through him and wash away any lingering trace of darkness or pain. Just as she’d pushed away his demon one year ago.

Her screams as he fingered her were nothing compared the ones she loosed now. What she felt was stronger than any orgasm she had ever had- but without relief. It was the cruelest torture and most sinfully delicious gift. She felt as though she were trying to hold a tsunamis back with just a small hand, but she fought that mighty wave tooth and nail as her lover became something more animal than man. No amount of pain in her breasts could push aside the feeling of him slamming into her or his growling shouts in her ear.

New heat flooded Manon’s core as Dorian came again- he didn’t slow. She took that heat and it very nearly cost her the war. Rope after rope- her lover’s seed filled her and yet he didn’t soften at all. She screamed with the effort of battling back all those feelings that had destroyed her conscious mind.

Dorian filling her without (apparent) care for her own desire- she was nothing more than an object for his pleasure. The thought turned Manon on more than she would ever have imagined was possible.

Each time she felt the wave gain ground, something light nipped at her breasts- the flog. It added just enough pain to help her push back, tighten her core harder, and damn herself further.

She couldn’t worry about how long she had left, she was holding as still as possible to keep the hourglass in place, but everything inside of her was roaring and thrashing. Dorian came again and Manon screamed hard and loud-

-she lost the chain.

Her lifeline. The only hope she had of making it through another century of this beautiful torment.

Dorian couldn’t help but play devil once more.

He ripped the blindfold off of Manon and grabbed her hair. Before her eyes could even adjust to the light he threw the hourglass aside and yanked her up just far enough to see his emptying cock splitting the lips of her sex.

“Look how red you are, witch.” He growled as she blinked against the light and those beautiful eyes rolled up into her head, “ _ I said- look at how red you are! _ ”

He pulled at her hair and Manon’s eyes managed to focus for a moment. Her split skin was hot and swollen, as flushed as the rest of her while he pumped in and out. A layer of white cream had built along his shaft- not the remainder of his twin releases, but rather the froth that formed from her own arousal.

The sight was almost enough to shred Manon’s control. She was holding on by a thread, nothing more.

With a grunt Dorian stopped moving. Truth be told, the hourglass had run out long before he spilled his second load. He wanted to punish Manon again- to play dark games with her body until she was begging him for release. Her control was iron, and he hadn’t found the right trigger to melt her.

She was shaking, shuddering around him and yet she had done more admirably than he ever would have imagined.

“Witch,” he barked as he released her hair, his voice rough and hard. He removed the foot holding down her spreader bar and stepped back, withdrawing from her entirely, “ _ Come. _ ”

Her entire body lifted off of the bed and she screamed hard enough to wreck her throat for days. The tsunamis she was warring with drowned her beneath its assault- punishment for making it wait. Her release as well as Dorian’s poured onto the floor beneath them. Dorian didn’t move, didn’t speak, and didn’t touch her as Manon shook.

Wave after wave- orgasm after orgasm. Manon had held on so hard that it took no encouragement to let loose every last ounce of pleasure her body was capable of feeling. She gasped for air- a long, hard sound, and her body went suddenly limp. She continued to breathe hard and fast, but her eyes rolled up into her head.

She had passed out.

Dorian undid the clasp on her wrists and linked the cuffs together once more. He saw Manon’s head twitch, then start slightly as consciousness slowly returned, “Come along.”

Dorian lifted the still half-awake Manon over one shoulder and walked her to the longer leash that he’d clipped to the ceiling. He used a blind hand to find the end of the leash, then the connector on Manon’s cuffs. She wouldn’t be able to stand properly, but the rope would hold her weight.

Manon didn’t even seem to notice when he set her down. Her toes barely reached the floor, and she hung entirely from her wrists as sweat dripped down her body to mingle with the stream of releases between her legs.

Dorian clipped the short leash to the small loop at the center of the chain’s leather guard- a loop he was happy Manon hadn’t bitten down on during their play. He slipped the handle of the leash into a clasp on the wall.

“Hold this for me.” Dorian grabbed the flog from the bed, flipped it upside down, and quickly pushed the handle up into Manon.

Her entire body jerked back to consciousness and she made a not-so-pleasurable sound at the intruder in her too-sensitive core. The motion yanked against the nipple clamps and Dorian grabbed Manon’s thighs before she swung further back from the leash. Her core tightened obediently around the flog, but her mind couldn’t even process what it was.

Dorian’s game had broken her- she couldn’t think beyond the exhaustion and the pleasure. All she knew was that if she listened, he would give her more.

Dorian flipped the latch on her feet and released Manon from the spreader. Her hips ached as she tried to bring her legs together. She’d fought both for and against just that for too long- those legs were utterly useless. There wasn’t even strength left in them to stand.

Dorian picked up the crystal-tipped plug from the cleaning solution. Manon was still finding her mind, but he didn’t want her coming back  _ too _ far.

He summoned the erotic oils from their bathroom- what Manon had used when she pushed the plug in earlier. After it was prepared, Dorian returned to her side.

“Deep breath, you get a special reward for being such a good witch.”

Manon shuddered in both anticipation and fear. When she felt the cold head of her plug press against her rear, she forced the tension in her body back a moment. Only once she nodded did he pull the flog out and push the plug in with a firm, slow hand.

The flog fell to the floor and Manon’s body thrashed as she tried (and failed) to use her legs. Dorian pinned her stomach and forced the plug in to its proper place while she squealed.

“You get to come first this time,” he whispered into her ear.

Dorian pushed Manon forward- easing the tension on her breasts as he parted her legs, aimed his cock, and pushed slowly into her.

Her entire body lifted on arms that found new, emergency strength. She was always tight, but with the added pressure of the plug it was hard for Dorian to even move. If the last climax hadn’t wrecked her, she would have come again. She was unbelievably full- the plug was even massaging Dorian’s cock nearly to the point of pain.

“Tell me when it hurts,” he slid their bodies back from the window an inch at a time, pulling the chain on her breasts.

When he heard a sharp cry, Dorian took a half step forward, setting the boundary well within her limitations.

He started off their final round slowly, letting Manon find pleasure once more. She was so full her lower half ached, but it was beautiful. Different than how he’d tortured her earlier, but far from anything sweet or gentle. It was still an owning of her body, a declaration of possession.

“Come when you can.”

Manon’s body tightened and she shuddered around his cock. With a soft cry everything went tight and loose- then her strength utterly failed her. It was a small orgasm, but all she was capable of.

At least, that’s what she thought.

“Unacceptable.” Dorian whispered against her ear.

His hand moved up between her breasts to grab her collar hard enough to make his presence known. The other hand released her leg so that she fell against his abdomen and the crystal at the end of her plug hit his pelvis. It was driven into her just a few centimeters more, but it was enough to make her scream. Dorian thrust as hard and as fast as the position allowed while he whipped at her knot.

Manon’s voice cracked as she cried out. Dorian’s mouth was against her ear and she heard every grunt and gasp. Each time he shoved into her he pushed the plug in against her. It stirred within her constantly, making sure she didn’t adjust to its presence. As her body swung back away from the window the clamps bit into her nipples and bolts of pain shot down into the core he was attacking with such relentless speed.

Pain and pleasure mixing and morphing into one another- Manon felt a true tension rising that was born of both. Exhausted as she was, she could not resist the call of oblivion. Manon threw herself into the storm at her back.

Dorian felt the change in her and released her throat. He kept one hand whipping over her knot, but now his other found the crystal protruding from her rear and took hold of it. The bulb slid out to its thickest width, and Dorian pinned it there. Holding her open further than she would have thought possible as he thrust into her hard and fast.

“Try again,” he whispered in Manon’s ear. “Come properly this time, witch.”

Her back arched again and her useless feet lifted entirely off the ground. Her core rippled and spasmed around his length as Manon came with a proper, all-consuming scream that ripped the air from her lungs and threw Dorian over the edge.

He released the plug to fall out entirely and slammed into her, filling her once again with rope after rope of hot seed. Her entire body shook and thrashed as muscles were forced to surrender more energy than they had left. Dorian ground his fingers against her knot, pushing her through the wave that carried her away far too quickly. Despite her sudden silence, he pumped into her until her body took the final ropes of cum from his softening cock.

Her head lulled to the side and Manon made a soft, quiet noise. It was little more than a whimpered squeak, but still her nipple clamps released and the leash fell. That told Dorian all he needed to know.

She had used her safe word for freedom. The game was over.

Dorian pulled himself from inside her and reached up to unlatch her cuffs from the rope. Manon fell without legs to support her. Her lover caught her, but his own body was spent as well and they both ended up sagging to the floor.

Manon’s skin was rapidly cooling, losing the flushed heat of lust. She shivered against Dorian as he undid the cuffs and collar with shaking fingers. As spent as she was, he was only minutely better off.

“Manon?” Dorian murmured her name for the first time since the game began.

There was no response from the shaking form in his arms.

Dorian put every last piece of himself into stripping off her lingerie before scooping her up. He couldn’t go far, so he took her to the bathroom. She would need to be somewhere they hadn’t played their dark game.

He turned the water of the tub on and slid her onto the cool marble as she began to stir. Soft noises that might have been attempts at speech came from shaking lips. Dorian used the last of his energy to go back into the bedroom to retrieve their drinks.

The water in the tub was neither hot nor cold. He set the glasses on the wide lip of the tub and leaned back onto an angled portion of the bathtub meant for reclining. Dorian pulled Manon off the bench and parted his legs so that she could lay along his body. With his lover in his arms, Dorian let the water cover them both. He whispered her name again and again, and gently inspected the dark red lines left by both clamps and cuffs. The red markings on her ankles from the manacles would be checked once she was recovered.

“Come back to me, love” he whispered in her ear, far gentler than the dominant male of the bedroom would. Dorian kissed the marks on her wrist and gently massaged tight muscles.

He sat up only to turn the water off, and it was when he reclined once more that Manon’s fingers twitched and managed to wrap around his. Once she knew she was holding his hand, she pulled it across her stomach to rest in a more comfortable position.

“Are you alright?” Manon didn’t respond to Dorian’s question, but he needed her to. The lust was clearing and worry filled his heart. She’d used her safe word- that meant he went too far, “Manon? Are you alright? Nod if you’re alright.”

She nodded weakly.

“Really?”

“Really,” her voice was hoarse, but she managed to shift and turn her face towards his, “really really.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled at the fear in his voice and her eyes fluttered open, “Worry-wart… Thank you.”

“Thank  _ you _ . You were incredible Manon, thank you for everything.” He kissed her neck. “The thing with the plug-“

“May have to be a special-occasions-only kind of thing,” she groaned weakly against his chest at the soreness in her rear. “I don’t know if I could handle that too often.”

“I’m sorry,” he kissed the top of her head.

“Don’t be. If I had anything left it might have earned another spray. I loved it.” She tipped her head up to meet his eyes. Her other hand slid to his forearm to offer a comforting touch against his own shivering muscles, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he smiled.

Manon’s eyes closed again. She wouldn’t fall asleep but her body and mind were frayed, “I liked the pants,” she said, the words helping to ground her even through the pain in her throat.

Dorian didn’t miss the extra little swallow, and he took his hand from beneath hers to lift her glass of water from the side of the tub. He held it to Manon’s lips and she parted them to drink, “You enjoyed that? I almost lost control at that little massage you gave me.”

She pushed his wrist when she was sated and he took the cup away. Manon smiled, “I know. I know all the tricks that work on you.”

“How about just light spooning tomorrow?” Dorian splashed some water on his face. 

“We can spoon, but after that I want you in every room of this house at least three times. Before it’s all over I intend to break you.”

Dorian snorted at her bravado and adjusted Manon against his chest so that he could rub her hips. It could easily turn into an intimate position, but even if he had the energy Manon’s full-body flinch would have been enough to cool him, “Next time either we use the spreader less or don’t open it as wide.”

“It was the second five minutes,” she groaned as his fingers warmed and Dorian sent flickers of heat into her aching muscles, calming them. Under his guidance the pain was easing back. “I loved it- I’ve never come so hard and I’ll make you do that again as soon as we’re recovered enough for it, but it took its toll. Maybe we should have switched to soft restraints.”

Dorian buried his face in Manon’s neck, “It wasn’t exactly five minutes the second time.”

“How long?” he felt a hint of danger in her voice.

“Ten? Give or take?” He worked on a particularly vicious knot in Manon’s hip, offering comfort in a silent plea for forgiveness.

“Give or take  _ what _ ?”

Dorian winced, “Two minutes?”

She growled, but no blow landed, “I’m going to make you  _ suffer _ , you ass.”

“Just don’t make my ass suffer.” He kissed her cheek, “That’s  _ your _ kink, darling.”

“Remember what happened on Yulemas? I can- and will- keep you on the edge for hours.”

It was the worst (and best) night of his life.

As their heartbeats slowed, Dorian used his body as a heat source to warm the bathwater and bring Manon’s temperature back up. She’d been a clammy, shivering wreck when they finished, and he didn’t want her to catch a cold.

“What did you think about the last thing I did with the flogger?” Dorian finished his work on the knot and moved his focus to her lower back, which was also a mess after their game. His body was as good as a hot towel, but Manon found the will to slide forward far enough for his hands to set to work.

“When you told me to hold it for you?” He didn’t answer, but rather kissed her shoulder in response. “That was one of the hottest parts.” Her mind had been all but gone then, but Manon was present enough to appreciate it.

“I picked that version  _ just _ because the card said it was approved for insertion.” 

Manon tried to snicker and set off a coughing fit. Dorian returned her water glass to her.

After that they kept the talking to a minimum- just enough to help ease both back into their proper dynamic, but not so much as to tax Manon’s voice. The next time Chaol was on duty in the castle Dorian planned to visit Yrene and pick up something to help Manon’s throat. The position he’d taken her mouth in on the bed was quite a bit rougher than the standard- it probably did as much damage as her screams.

The first time he went to her for healing advice after a sex game, Dorian thought he might die of embarrassment. Yrene was not only fine with making tonics for the couple, she was always the consummate professional and never seemed to judge them for their play.

“I’m running out of things in easy reach,” Dorian said at last. His hands were over Manon’s breasts and he was directing gentle heat into the delicate inner workings ravaged by the clamps. Her innate healing abilities would ensure that even if they used the clamps every day she would face no distortion, but he flattened her still-aching nipples with his palms all the same, giving them a rest.

Manon stretched against him. Her ankles were sore, and her hips didn’t feel right still. Besides that, most of her muscles were too weak to move much. Even as she straightened her arms her entire abdomen quaked hard enough to ripple the bathwater.

“I’m alright,” she rested her head on his shoulder. “How about you?”

“I was the one dealing all of that, remember? You’re more important.”

Manon reached up to flick his nose, “You went through as much as I did. And even if I came harder, you came more. Your body has to hurt. I don’t have much strength in my hands still, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

He didn’t respond and her arm rose again, poised to flick his eye (not that was looking where she aimed).

“Fine, mercy!” He laughed and swatted her hand aside, “My lower back is killing me.”

“Up and over.” Manon managed to push herself aside and land on the bench. Dorian settled in front of her and tipped forward to rest his head on the faucet.

Manon poked and prodded at his back for a moment before twisting one of Dorian’s hands behind him, “Heat.” He obliged, sending his magic back into his own aching muscles.

Her fingers were boney and merciless, but she dug deeper than he could and had a knack for working aches out from the root. Dorian waited patiently and endured the agony of her pointy fingers until Manon planted her palm in the middle of his back and said “Straight.”

Her body shuddered again at the energy it took to brace against Dorian’s stretch. She felt a series of pops beneath her palm- but not enough. Manon gave a hard shove and felt something shift. All Dorian had to do was roll his hips for the final bone to crack into place. He groaned as he tipped forward and landed face-first in the water, where he rested a moment before surfacing.

“All better?”

“All better.” Dorian turned and kissed his lover.

“Tomorrow morning I’m going to make you cry,” Manon yawned as she settled back into the tub. She pulled Dorian back to lay his head between her breasts.

He managed a laugh, “You’ll be the one crying- I just get to lay there and enjoy it while you do all the work. Forced laziness.”

“Why do you think I enjoy being tied up?” she stretched her hands down across his chest and gave his pectoral a soft squeeze. Manon tended to get distracted by his muscles while they made love- she enjoyed the soft steel of her lover’s body as much as he enjoyed it in hers.

Dorian fell quiet for a long time and Manon felt his heartbeat slow. She nudged him awake, “We should get you to bed- you’re supposed to race Abraxos in the morning, remember?”

“I’ll let him win,” the king stood with a noise of complaint and turned to help Manon up.

“Sure you will. Come on princeling.”

He didn’t let Manon pull him from the tub, but instead cupped her face between his palms. Dorian stared into her eyes as he had earlier- as he had exactly one year ago, “Thank you- for that day and every single one that followed.”

Manon didn’t know what to say, so she took a step closer and kissed him, “For that day- and all the ones to come.”

A year of war, of loss, and of rebuilding.

A year with the partner neither would have ever predicted.

A year in heaven.


End file.
